Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain
by MeykoLove
Summary: People make the mistake of thinking fate isn't a reality. The choices they make are presented free from destiny- but the choice was given to him that day, and he knew it was more than coincidence. Yaoi, Vincent/Cloud.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

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**Come Death and Destruction,****Dearest I Remain**

**Prologue**

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_``They that have pow`r to hurt and will do none``_

'_...The summer`s flow`r is to the summer sweet,_

_Though to itself it only live and die,_

_But if that flow`r with base infection meet,_

_The basest weed outbraves his dignity_

_For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds,_

_Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds._

_-William Shakespeare_

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The chilling wind swept by without care or thought for the people who hugged themselves' tighter at its passing, shivering against its sharp and subtle sting. It blew around the street lamps and corners of the metropolis, blowing about stray litter of paper, wrappers and cans mixed in with more natural elements; leaves decayed in the autumn frost, floating to the asphalt in spiralling motions. A small pile of the leaves took flight, swirling gently and then sharply as the wind "waxed and waned", blowing through the city of Nibelheim until they reached a dilapidated building in an "active" district.

The building was a school, worse for wear but still faring better than most in the area; it didn't really resemble a school anyway, with faded, crumbling roan brick walls and few windows, the present ones boarded up or covered by rusting metal bars. It had a large front entrance with heavy green double doors, above it the words "L. Jenova Crescent Public High School". It was tall and large to say the least, three storeys, with an overgrown expanse of grass for grounds, riddled with small hills and broad weeping willow trees. The back opened to a cracked parking lot with few cars, empty at this time, and numerous steps led up to the four door back entrance. It was to these steps that the small flurry of leaves came to rest, fluttering to a stop upon the open page of a lengthy paperback, spread wide in the lap of a student.

Cloud blinked in surprise as the curled brown plants drifted before his eyes, and he shook the book to clear it of the mess, restarting their journey. He rubbed his tired azure eyes and shut the book, sighing. Once again, he presumed as he glanced at the darkening sky, he had read far too long and lost track of time—school had been let out ages ago. Of course, only he, Cloud Strife, could be the one to remain of his own free will at his pathetic excuse for a school on a Friday for the purpose of reading. He shook his head in distaste, cramming the book into his worn faux leather sea-bag and slinging it over a narrow shoulder before descending the many steps, preparing for the journey home.

He would have to catch the tram instead of the bus—the next one wouldn't come till dark at this hour, and Cloud didn't want to be outside when it became dark. No, that was when all the "colourful characters" of his neighbourhood would begin emerging, and a meeting with them for someone like him would never end well. Cloud wanted to be safe at home by the time _they _came out, safe in his small apartment with his perverted but secretly worrying roommate Reno Sinclair, finishing off the night's homework before turning in. It was his regular routine, and although the tedious nature did disturb Cloud sometimes, he knew it would be necessary until he got his own job and earned enough to rent an apartment or something of the sort in a better area.

"Barrenville Nibelheim" was one of the nastiest districts in the city, its nickname derived from the often barren, empty streets. Business was never conducted outside unless it was hostage or package exchange, or you were a newbie dealer working behind the backs of your former gang. Cloud considered himself lucky-most of the student population in his school were in gangs—even Reno was in a gang; the "Turks", one of the dirtiest operating yet inwardly "friendly" gangs around. Being involved with the mob helped kids pick up more than a few bucks, which were desperately needed. The only reason why Cloud didn't have to worry about income problems was his father, who still sent child-support checks in his name even after the death of Cloud's mother.

Cloud's mother, a beautiful, feminine woman with curly chocolate hair and sparkling green eyes, had died two years before of breast-cancer, when Cloud was just fourteen. Two years before that she had divorced from Cloud's father, Heath Verdot, after he had had an affair with one of his co-workers—one of his _male _co-workers, who had given Verdot the boost up in the ranks of the company during their relationship enough for him to ditch his wife and child with no worries except the child-support, which he paid constantly and willingly. In his gloating, Verdot had decided that all the checks he sent would be in the boy's name so that Cloud's mother would not be able to use it without Cloud's approval. Of course, his mom was a lovely, honest woman who would never do such a thing to her only son, but Verdot had wanted to insult her in every way he could, for reasons unknown, although Cloud suspected it was to hide his feelings of guilt and unhappiness for throwing away his family for fortune. The woman had never done anything hurtful to Verdot, and had never been with anyone but him either. Verdot just tried to make her feel low about herself to better himself. That plan never worked.

Cloud had openly given all the money of his checks to his mother after cashing them, but they hadn't been enough to pay for treatment. The sickness spread. Eventually, she quit her job at a daycare, and then she quit any usual activity. Cloud had tried desperately to carry on with a regular life through out it all, constantly checking in with his mother, hoping for a miracle against all odds. One day when he returned from school, eager to show his mother the small medal he had gotten for his art, Cloud found his mother lying still in bed, pulse silent, not stirring to his desperate calls. His mother had died in her sleep—of course, that was what Cloud assumed. He never found out for sure from any doctors or anyone. He was grown then, and even if fourteen years wasn't an adult, he was still a child raised in a hard life. He had lived in the same tiny home from the moment he was born, and Cloud was well accustomed to his surname. He could have been childish, hoping that she was just sleeping and that she would be fine if he just called an ambulance and had her brought to the hospital. In fact, that was actually what he had tried to do, at first.

"_Hello? This is Nibelheim South General Hospital. I'm Fatima, how may I help you?"_

_Cloud listened to the sound of the other woman on the phone, hearing her rhythmic breathing through the scratchy line as he stared at the young woman—__**his mother**__—sprawled limply across the mattress in their bedroom. Over her frail body was a navy blue ragged blanket, one with his mother's face and his own sewn in, surrounded by several flowers of various sizes. Cloud's mom had been an adept seamstress. She still clutched a small chocobo teddy to her chest, a teddy that had been her first gift to him, his own name stitched onto the scarf around its neck, determining its name. He continued to stare even as the operator became confused and curious, hearing his breathing. Irregular breathing. Cloud was beginning to hyperventilate._

"_Hello? Hello, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance? Do you need help? Hel—"_

_Cloud opened his mouth..._

_...And screamed. He screamed a raw, terrible sound of anguish and destroyed wishes, a sound of a person drowning in misery, their life boat now sunk in a sea of their terrors as it collapsed beneath lost will. He screamed, clutching the phone for dear life as he fell to his knees then scrambled back, away, out of the room and into the corner of the dirty, small kitchenette, refusing to accept the scene before him. He could hear the woman shouting at him through the device, asking him to stop and explain, but he didn't care. He just wanted somebody to know, to hear the sound of his voice, to realize the depth of his loss, even if they didn't really care and would forget about it probably during their next coffee break. Cloud just wanted somebody to be there until he stopped, even if he couldn't see them. Even if her concern was only temporary because it was so frightening to listen to a shriek this emotional, it didn't matter. Cloud just wanted __**somebody to care**__..._

_...Even if it was just for a moment._

When Cloud had finished he had hung up, shed a few tears, then packed his meagre belongings and dragged his mother's body to the backyard. He worked well into the night, digging with his mother's spade and shovel, upturning the small garden which had died without her touch. He had wrapped her body with the blanket and placed 'Cloud' in her grasp before rolling her into the semi-deep hole and covering her body with the dry mulch. Then he wandered back inside, taking anything useful and placing it in his knapsack or his mothers' laundry bag before cleaning himself off and laying down to sleep. No one ever came to check whether or not his call had been something serious or otherwise. It had come from Barrenville. Death was too common there for investigation, and cries of the innocent were natural elements.

Cloud had left at the end of the month's rent, sending a false, forged letter to the landlord, moving into a cheaper shared apartment, renting from a woman who didn't mind young teens living on their own. Things were handled differently in Barrenville. The law did nothing for the people, so they didn't bother with the law; if you didn't like something, or wanted something done, you took care of it with your own two hands. Any contracts were held in "honour" upon your life. You minded your own business then most would mind theirs, except for the ones who wanted to cause trouble. You learned to steer clear of them though.

Cloud had never even thought of living with Verdot, opting to continue picking up his checks from the bank and living on his own than be with the man. School was easy to handle—no one ever was bothered to call his mom about school events or fundraisers, and his information was easily remedied with a paid phone call from "mom". Cloud never gave them a reason to call home, not like they would do anything even if he was found to be living alone. It was the norm, judging by the amount of teenage neighbours he had. The school reused his old information even when he entered high school, so there was no problem there either. Plus, Heath paid all school fees.

It was one of the better lifestyles of a Crescent student. Cloud just needed to find a part-time job and he could start saving for his escape from the slums. If only there weren't so few.

He found himself walking past the closed down recreational centre and he increased his guard. He was no fool. The place crawled with the "type" he tried to avoid. Cloud could see his reflection in the mirror, knew the size of his slim body. His form was svelte, his face slender and pale, pretty yet male, a true androgynous appearance. His muscles were slight and despite having some skill in self-defence, Cloud knew he would be hard pressed to beat a single built man let alone four or five, the size of their usual packs. He turned into an alley, a short cut he usually took, safer than the regular roads.

Cloud heard loud, jeering laughter ahead and came to a stand still. He narrowed his eyes and clutched his bag tighter, hearing the voices growing louder and increasing in quantity. It was a hefty group, at least a dozen, of older men judging by their deep voices. Cloud looked frantically for someplace to hide. He couldn't be seen, couldn't give them the chance to even think about playing with him. He saw a smaller side alley up ahead to his left and dashed quietly into it, pressing his body further in and against the wall as the raucous men strolled past. His eyes widened as he saw what they carried. Guns, obviously, but also knives, pry-bars, and thick baseball bats. Most of the items dripped with blood, and the same went for their clothing.

"Well, we won't be seeing that asses' face gain for a time, eh Faye?" One man called, laughing with the others, "Fucking prick wouldn't give up! Did you see how many times I had to beat him with this? This thing's fucking iron! I mean, shittin' Hell, I hit him across his damn head!"

"I got him with my knife!"

"Fuck, _he_ got _me_ with his! Right in my fucking shoulder!"

"Bastard shot at me so many fucking times—would've hit if his arm hadn't been knocked so many fuckin' times too!"

Their voices swelled for a time as they continued on about their latest fight before they finally exited the alleyway. Cloud hesitated, wanting to make sure it was truly clear before he emerged. A few minutes later he crept into the open, checking around before continuing. He sighed. Another street brawl. Or mugging, rather. He wondered who it would be this time-hopefully no one he knew. Who would be stupid enough to challenge a gang of such size anyway? Not even Reno was that idiotic, and he was a cocky bastard for sure. Perhaps it hadn't been a challenge? More like a sneak attack...

Cloud froze as he heard a moan to his left. He turned, knees bent, hands fisted in case of an attack. There was a large, filthy dumpster, covered with black coated grime, but empty for the most part. And beside it was a blood covered, beaten individual with a mane of black hair that was beautiful even as it was tainted by blood and sweat, and pale skin covered in a tattered suit. Lastly was the blood red, fading eyes that squinted against the pain as the person struggled to hold on. Cloud could only stare for a moment as he faced him, stunned. Then he uttered the name, incredulous and horrified.

"_Vincent?_"

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**Author's Note:**** Yay, prologue is finished! I hate writing these sometimes-they're just so boring and I find it hard to be creative. My prologues for any writing are used to usually just state the situations of the characters and usually introduce the main ones, and just unload a heap of information onto the reader. I didn't even get everything done! So, as a summary—Cloud lives all alone with Reno as his roommate, and he's not in a gang and gets money from his father, Verdot, and he has just found Vincent beaten up beside a dumpster on his way home. Still haven't included all the characters or any real plot yet and ... I have a question? If I were to make this into a three way, who would be the third? Vincent, Cloud and...Who? Please review and put the answer in as a little footnote, with a short explanation as to why; the following characters are off limits, though; Zack, Verdot (just in case any of you get any ideas), Reno, Genesis, Yuffie and Aerith (yes, there can be girls in a threesome). It's not because I don't like the characters, but because of the roles they play. I just might add the third into this fic, as part of the story, or if you actually want to read something else of my writing style I'll make a few drabbles or one shots. **


	2. Enter Vincent Valentine

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

_**Twilight **_**the novel ****is the property of Stephanie Meyer**

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**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter One**

**Enter Vincent Valentine**

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_Here upon waking I remember a faint light,_

_Spreading before me as darkness cleared to sight;_

_Echoing upon a face (with two blue eyes),_

_Pale like winters fresh strewn snow lacking scars,_

_Reflecting innocence as white as the crescent in the skies,_

_Illuminated, burning brightly with rimmed stars,_

_**And then I knew...**_

_**That it was you...**_

_And I would not bear to let you know_

_That in that moment I felt only sorrow._

_My world thus then felt apart that day,_

_And you were the catalyst to that fray._

_-Meykolove_

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Contrary to popular belief, Vincent Valentine was not a vampire. He did not reject sunlight and avoid it like the plague—the pigment of his skin just prevented him from darkening under UV rays. His lack of sleep during the regular nights was due to insomnia, a well known condition which he took pills for. Vincent didn't have a taste for blood, he only dealt with it—and if blood red eyes meant he was a vampire too, then he would say to lay off _Twilight_. Red eyes were the stupidest way to detect a vampire. Why would a vampire be born with all the necessary attire to fool a human and lure them in if a single glance at the irises revealed their true nature? Ridiculous.

Vincent enjoyed the taste of garlic, being fond of the garlic bread sold at the quaint cafe he regularly visited for business, _Les Yeux Roux__*****_. Lastly, his strength and speed were products of years of excruciating torment he had placed upon his body to perfect his own special kind of self-defence for survival on the streets. In Barrenville, your top priority was to stay alive. In order to accomplish this difficult task, one would have to learn to fight, so he had.

Vincent was a proficient fighter. His abilities surpassed just skill—he was a master at manipulating his supple form, reacting mid-second to avoid the most sure blows, making himself disappear in battle and during a raid, fooling even the expensive high-tech cameras that guarded the vaults and wares of greedy, selfish tycoons in the Upper City, the richer part of "town".

He was part feline in grace and poise, part canine in ferocity, and part serpent in cunning, in negotiations, talking people loose with riddles and suggestions, striping anyone down in less than a minute to see their true lust. It was always the same; the want of money, drugs, power, sex, uncomplicated desires that once fulfilled gained you an ally. Yes, Vincent Valentine was a powerful, calculating individual who could pull the trigger of a loaded gun aimed at a two year old without hesitation. It was fortunate he had never been faced with that situation. The most innocent person he had ever killed was a cop.

Powerful individuals, however, are very dangerous. Sometimes they get overconfident and start taking liberties not allotted to them. It had to be handled the right way. Just like a rosebush when it grows too wild—you cut it down to size.

That was exactly what Genesis did. Cut him sharp, fast, and unexpectedly, watching eagerly for realization to kick in and understanding of one's place in the pyramid was accepted. Genesis Rhasphodos loved those moments—it was a simple pleasure to be able to put one of the strongest men on the planet in his place.

Valentine wasn't an idiot. He found himself doing the a good number of idiotic things at times, of course, but everybody experienced those "duh" instances—even the person with the greatest intelligence on the planet. Vincent did some things, though, that he would agree would classify him as the upmost moron to ever live, if there was such a thing. Vincent discovered his own lack of intelligence quite randomly, waking up one morning after a particularly nasty fight the night before, still covered in blood and street muck, body bearing a few more bruises. As he pulled his weary body from the tainted cobalt bed sheets Vincent had found himself brooding on just how he had ended up in his current life situation.

Sure, working for Genesis, the auburn-haired, smug and conceited head of "Aviso" (Vincent's gang's name), had its perks, with a hefty income for his unique and insurmountable skills that enabled him to afford one of the sleek condos resting in the "Diamond Pit" of Barrenville, the neighbourhood of the king pins—the wealthy part of the region that everyone knew to stay away from. A burglar would be mad if he attempted to rob from the heads of the mob. It dug you a fast, deep grave with a preceding, ugly death.

Being one of Genesis' men, Vincent had unlimited protection and resources as long as he didn't cross the man or fail an assignment. Vincent Valentine never failed. Ever since he had joined Aviso at age eleven, he had had a perfect record of success. And he always accepted a "gig".

Vincent had explored Barrenville until he could picture it from any angle at any street, and know every cross road and lamp posts' location. As a result, he was privy to the fact that Barrenville was sinking lower and lower with every second, and that most of the people he glimpsed during his short motorcycle drives would give anything to trade places with him. His path was set, and he would live in comfort, well-provisioned and paid.

His life...

Vincent was repulsed by it. He despised it, cursed it to the non-existent ends of the Earth. He didn't want to be stuck in this tale, _his tale_, a life of crime, despair and death, of watching blood rain down in floods and cursing eyes bore into his soul. Vincent hated being trapped. He hated his chains, the weight that possessed him and forever grew heavier, the cage that held him. The **coffin**...

Contrary to popular belief, Vincent Valentine was not a vampire. He did however, live in a coffin. It had very thick walls, and was stained black and red, wrapped and locked tightly. There was no key...

...Instead there was a person. Someone he presumed had long ago forgotten him, but who he would forever remember. Or, perhaps they would know him?

Maybe they were already dead...

...he had killed too many to remember.

_...I'm so sorry..._

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**Author's Note: Heh heh! How do you all like this chapter? Unoriginal title, I know, but I'm not that great at naming things. I broke the paragraphs up a lot more here too. The title of the cafe Vincent likes, by the way, means **_**The Red Eyes**_**, or as a literal translation from French to English, **_**The Eyes Red. **_**The spelling of "red" might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's the plural version of "rouge" in this case. And Vincent's gang's name, "Aviso", means "warning" in Spanish. Yeah, I found that one out by reading the back of a video game case and decided to just go with it—but I do actually know some French as I'm studying it. Don't judge me on my linguistic abilities, but my writing skills! Yes, the poem I made did suck, but at the time nothing I had fit. And just so anyone reading this knows, the chapters will come in varying lengths, depending on the content and how I want to end it. The next one should be much longer! Please, review, all I have for criticism at the moment is my sister, and she's not being very supportive! -_-**


	3. Mutilation

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

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**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Two**

**Mutilation**

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_It seems only yesterday I used to believe_

_There was nothing under my skin but light._

_If you cut me I would shine._

_But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,_

_I skin my knees. I bleed._

_-Arthur Rimbaud, "Seven-year-old Poets"_

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Cloud gaped at the slightly deformed figure laying upon the ground, shocked into silence. He only stirred after another groan passed through the pale lips, fainter than before. Cloud blinked, hesitating a moment while grasping his bag for support. He didn't know what he was thinking, or why his conscience was urging him to do something that seemed extremely foolish. He was moving, slipping the strap of the sea-bag over his head so that it hung diagonally across his chest.

Cloud knelt to the ground beside the body of the broken young man, turning Vincent onto his backside by his broad shoulders. It was definitely him—Cloud would know the angled jaw and sharp features anywhere. Vincent was hard not to miss at Crescent High.

He leaned in close, checking and inspecting his body. There was definitely a pulse in his neck, although it faltered a bit. Cloud began his inspection with ease—he was studying in the medical field since it was one of his better areas and seemed to be his true calling. He knew how to detect a break or diagnose simple illnesses with a few symptoms.

Cloud ran his fingers down the muscled torso, feeling the purple-black blotched area revealed by the torn open olive shirt, and finding several snapped ribs. There was also a wide slice of shredded skin leaking blood. Cloud winced and let his fingers wander across his shoulders, one of which was badly bruised, as though Vincent had landed on it heavily.

His right arm was twisted badly, obviously broken. The knuckles of the slim, long fingers were split, flesh torn open. Cloud found a few more blade slices penetrating Vincent's dress pants, and for whatever reason the men had removed his shoes. Cloud stopped as he gently held a foot, looking for a sprain or fracture in any of the bones. What he discovered were pieces of sharp, broken glass imbedded in Vincent soles.

Cloud's eyes grew wide. He had never been so close to a man after he was jumped, and it was sickening to see the damage. At least Vincent hadn't been shot...or _raped_, even though he doubted the latter happening to the silent but wary man. The injuries were bad, of course, but it didn't look bad enough to kill him, which was strange. Vincent's wallet was still in his pocket, along with his cell phone. Just _what _had they been after?

Moving back to his head, Cloud brushed a few bloodied bangs out of his sweaty face. He was still recognizable, with only a bruise on his cheekbone and the right side of his jaw, and small slivers of glass. Other than those injuries and a split lip, Vincent's head looked fine. Cloud lifted the raven-haired man slightly by his neck, wanting to see the backside. He was surprised by how light he was.

A lot of swings had been taken at Vincent's back it seemed, from the swollen skin and welts. The blonde pulled the man's ripped jacket up from around his elbows to cover his shoulders. His clothing was nice, even when damaged, and slid through his fingers. True Kalm silk, the finest on Gaia. Extremely expensive—but of course, everyone knew Valentine was never short of money.

Cloud began to draw away slowly, pondering whether he should carry the taller man. Then he cringed. Gaia, he was actually going to go through with his little rescue? It was ludicrous and naive to even consider such a—

Cloud stilled when he felt a hand ghost past his arm, sliding along the thin cotton shirt he wore and up his arm, across his shoulders and resting on the back of his bare neck. He watched the violating limb fearfully before glancing at the body. His heart stopped for a moment. Crimson, piercing eyes, halfway open in dazed mind, were trained on his own blue orbs. Cloud tried not to move, breathing as quietly as possible. His beating organ jolted within his chest as the cold hand forced his head down lower and lower. The gaze held Cloud in place as his small body approached the larger one; his head was brought down to rest, thankfully just on Vincent's hammering heart and chest.

It was chilly to the touch, and Cloud allowed himself to shiver. His cheek was pressed against the cool surface, and he figured Vincent was still bleeding (and badly) as a wet, sticky substance clung to Cloud's face. Cloud glanced up at Vincent, seeing slight, jagged cuts along his alabaster skin. Vincent continued to stare straight ahead, not acknowledging Cloud's inquiring stare as his awareness began to fade.

They lay there together, with Cloud's head on Vincent's torso, for a time. When Vincent could no longer remain conscious, his hand slipped from the blonde's smooth neck, and Cloud lifted his head in relief. He hadn't understood the action one bit, but he figured it was mostly for comfort. No one wanted to be alone while in pain.

It didn't really matter, because it did nothing to deter Cloud from his plans. Cloud only became more determined. He needed to find a way to get Vincent home—to his home, at least. Cloud had no idea where Vincent lived, but it was probably somewhere rich and well-kept, and he would never be able to enter. Cloud debated just carrying the raven-haired man and catching the tram, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Vincent was too injured for rough handling and walking. It would be better just to call a cab, but usually Cloud avoided those, since many taxi-drivers' abused their work to catch easy victims for their selfish pleasure. Still, Vincent needed to be attended to ASAP, and he couldn't just call Reno. He didn't even have a phone—

Cloud looked at Vincent in embarrassment as the idea came to mind. Sure, he didn't have a phone, but Vincent _did_. He could easily use it and then just replace it. That wouldn't be stealing, or anything of the sort. It was just a bit humiliating to have to use the _victim's _phone when Cloud was trying to assist _him_. So far, Vincent seemed to be doing all the work.

Cloud sighed to himself, making a choice after another glance at the raven-haired man's face. Vincent didn't have time for Cloud's propriety issues. Mind made up, Cloud reached into Vincent's trouser pocket, attempting not to blush too fiercely. The pink streaked across his cheeks as he dug the device out, sighing thankfully when he held it in front of him. Vincent remained blissfully unaware of all this as he slumbered on, exhaustion and pain weighing deeply on his fatigued form.

The phone was one of those slim, expensive touch-screen models his schoolmates crooned over, and Cloud had absolutely no idea how to use it. He clasped it gently in both hands, staring in awe and puzzlement at the tiny icons arranged on the screen. Surprisingly it was unlocked, the password already queued in. Cloud suspected that Vincent had been about to make call. He could potentially confirm it by checking the call log, but Cloud was struggling to phone somebody himself, let alone do any snooping.

In the end, he decided to make an educated guess, pressing the picture of the old fashioned telephone and crossing his fingers for it to be more than just contacts. The thing didn't have the keyboard visible—it was hidden off to the side, he saw now, and would pop out if he pressed it.

A screen came up, with a flashing line in the typing area, and a small phone symbol to the side. Underneath was white script, asking "_Call this number?_" Cloud did a mental jig, thrilled, before putting in the numbers for the taxi-service, one Reno ordered him to always use when needing a ride.

After quickly asking for a driver to pick them up outside the alley and being told to wait fifteen minutes (which was surprisingly fast), Cloud used his spare time to hastily cover the taller man's feet. Cloud had no actual bandage materials with him, but he opted to use his own socks (which were big and thick) to protect Vincent's soles instead of leaving them so exposed to the air and grimy street.

Cloud prepared himself mentally and physically, breathing slowly and stretching taunt muscles, before throwing one of Vincent's arms over his shoulders, heaving the body upright, stumbling under the unaccustomed weight. Cloud regained his balance quickly, though; he was petite, sure, but not weak. Cloud could manage somebody like Vincent well-enough (he was lighter than expected too). It would just be slow going.

Cloud crinkled his nose as he wrapped Vincent's other arm in front, holding him in place more securely but causing the dark-haired man's long, black locks to drift over his blonde head and into his sight. He blew at them, shaking to clear his vision before restarting his trip to the corner.

Cloud knew it wasn't the smartest idea to bring a passed-out, known gang member to his apartment, especially after they had been in a street brawl. He couldn't help it, though. He knew Vincent- sort of. They went to the same school— heck, they were in the _same grade_, and they shared the same English and Gym classes. Although Cloud had never spoken to the teen in either course, Cloud observed enough of him to know that he was closed off, curt and completely stoic. Cloud also had overheard the rumours before describing Vincent as being a cold-blooded serial killer, but he doubted it. Distant and a bit rude? Maybe, but not willing to truly hurt a person. After Cloud explained what happened, everything would be fine, right? Since he wasn't trying to hurt the man, he wouldn't be an enemy, right?

He hummed softly as he walked, hunched over slightly. The blonde kept out of sight of passing strangers, and his eyes down. Right now he was more vulnerable than usual, so he would have to be even more careful. Cloud couldn't allow himself a moment's distraction. The light faded with every instant, and he watched the shadows grow along the degrading streets. Fortunately his distance was a short one. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, Cloud tried avoiding the many fissures in the cement, filled with slimy, acidic rain water, gathered from the showers the night before. It was hard to keep Vincent's body on his back steady, considering the height difference, and he struggled to keep the other's feet from dragging in the murky puddles, but he managed, finally arriving at the rusted post.

"Ahh," Cloud exhaled as he stooped low to the ground, propping Vincent's body against the tipped "Stop" sign at the corner. Blue orbs searched the narrow blacktop for a rusted yellow car, but found naught but empty space. There were no longer any stragglers wandering, and the dim yellow streetlamps flickered on in light of the fresh coat of darkness brought by nightfall. It made Cloud nervous. He kept glancing around, straining his ears for the sounds of another person—or group of people. He had long feared the nights in Barrenville, as he knew the dangers it posed for those individuals who felt haughty enough to travel alone, outside. His mother had warned him even before Reno, explaining the burden he carried from the features on his face.

_A younger Cloud sat idly in the corner of their kitchenette, playing silently with a soft furry companion. It wasn't 'Cloud'—the soft, golden plushie was a sacred relic to him, and was needed for things more important than playtime. It was needed for snuggling and cuddling when he was trying to sleep through the infuriated shouts of his father upon returning home, drunk and weary, demanding 'sex', something his mother told him he should never take lightly, as it was a cherished and sacred act of love. It was needed after his father struck him across the face and dubbed him names like 'worthless', 'pathetic', and 'unnecessary', big words that he recognized as bad because they were accompanied by swear words and beatings. _

_It was needed after that one time where his father's friend grabbed his arm and chin and tried to push their faces together into what his mother called a 'kiss', before his mother screamed and took a pole to the man's head, forcing him out of the house with every blow. 'Cloud' represented comfort and peace, a constant variable in his life that was there to love and calm him even when his mother wasn't, and would never leave—just like the clouds. Changing appearance, sure, but fading never. Barrenville was always covered by clouds._

_The stuffed animal Cloud was amusing himself with was a canine, more specifically a wolf, as large as the boy himself. He had just received it recently, a gift for his sixth birthday from his father. Or so his mother had said. Verdot hadn't been home for weeks, let alone last week on August nineteenth. Cloud, adoringly, had named the plushie 'Puppy', not only because he thought it appropriate, but because his mother also said she loved puppies, especially ones with Cloud's colour of eyes. _

_Puppy's limbs were flexible and limp, the stitching fine and precise to withstand years of play. The fur was shaggy but soft, feather light to the touch and silky between the fingers, black in colour with speckles of white and grey. The ears consisted of two pieces of the fur sewn with a hollow for the inside of the ear, with more fuzz guarding the entrance. The shiny plastic eyes were large and a vibrant cobalt, with shines painted on. The snout was black with much shorter hair, coming to a point and a hard nose. The jaw was open with a flopping red tongue sticking out between soft material teeth. The thicker fur on the legs ended three quarters of the way down for the last joint and paws, which were of the same cloth as the snout. The tail was quite long and curled at the end. Overall, it was a delightful character, and earned a place among Cloud's favourite toys, the few that he had. He sat upon its back, staring at the illustrations his mother had drawn for him in a ribbon adorned sketchbook. It was her birthday gift to him, and he cherished it as much as the dog, petting Puppy's ears as though it was a real pet._

_Ms. Strife was busily stirring a pot over the electric stove, whistling a quiet tune. The smell of cooking herbs filled the room, giving the blonde boy a dreamy, sleepy feeling as he stared at the pencil drawings. The relaxing mood made his mind sluggish and slow, the atmosphere having the same affect on him as ingested alcohol would. Consequentially, Cloud's tongue was loose, and the question was out of his mouth before it had even registered in his brain._

"_Am I pretty, mommy?" Cloud asked, pausing at the picture of a girl similar to him, just with long flowing hair and an older body. She was dressed in a pale pink sundress, and her hair was in two sweet braids. The girl sat idly in a swing, and seemed to be very lonely. The blue of her eyes bore a striking resemblance to Cloud's own, and he self-consciously rubbed his eyes._

_Ms. Strife froze, turning her head to her petite son still immersed in the art, startled by the sudden query. Cloud often complained about being called 'cute' or 'adorable'. However, Cloud had never before expressed any insecurity or curiosity about his looks, and she hoped this wasn't the beginning. She sighed softly, placing her wooden spoon against the pot and wiping her hands against the auburn apron. She walked to Cloud and knelt beside him, also looking at the drawing. "Why do you want to know?" She questioned, brushing stubborn bangs from his face. Cloud turned the page._

"_A boy at the playground," He replied vaguely, before continuing. "You know when we went to the playground?"_

"_You mean when we stopped by yesterday from the grocery store?"_

"_Uh-huh! There was this kid—he wanted to know why I was so pretty if I was a boy. He said only princesses look as pretty as me, n' boys can't be princesses."_

"_And what did you say?"_

"_I said 'I'm a boy, n' I'm not _that _pretty', n' then he laughed n' said I was. So I stopped talking to him, or I tried, n' then he asked me if I wanted to play on the swings, n' I said 'Yes', so then we played. He pushed me on the swing n' went down the slide with me, n' he helped me on the monkey bars," Cloud said happily, running his hand over a sketch of a mockingbird. _

"_Is that it? What happened next?" Ms. Strife smiled, putting an arm around her son. Cloud looked at her in confusion, eyebrows arched and mouth in a small opening, the image of innocence. She chuckled before poking him on the nose, Cloud following her finger with his eyes and blinking when she connected. "What happened, silly? Did he go home, or did I call you away?"_

_Cloud's eyes brightened in understanding. "Oh, he saw his big bro n' said he had to go. N' then... then he, uh, he did one of those things. One of those, you know," Cloud frowned, scratching his cheek idly as he tried to recall the word. "On my cheek," Cloud pointed to the pink tinged area on his face, biting his lip. "A k—a kiss? Yeah, he gave me a kiss!" Cloud nodded happily as he made this declaration, rubbing the section where the other boy's lips had brushed._

_His mother was giving him a very odd look, as though she was worried and alarmed by this revelation. "He kissed you? On the cheek?"_

"_Yep! N' all the kids in my class used to say they're icky n' wet, but it wasn't like that at all! He was really nice to me then too, but he kept looking at his bro n' saying he had to go, n' that he wanted to play again soon, but—"_

_Ms. Strife's emerald orbs were wide, glimmering with unexplainable fright, Cloud's words landing on her deaf ears, which were ringing with alarm bells. Her eyebrows were arched in an uncharacteristically sad way, and her hold on his shoulder tightened. _

"_Mommy? Are you okay?" Cloud anxiously stared at his mother's face, afraid of the expression and the strength of her hold. "Mommy?"_

"_C-Cloud," she finally managed, wincing at the fault in her voice as she was bombarded by invisible nightmares, things Cloud knew she often thought about involving him but never telling him what happened. She woke him often in the night, crying and clutching him closer, like he would vanish if she released him for a moment. His mother regularly muttered "Stop", "Go away", "Please", and "Don't hurt" in her sleep, and would hug him randomly throughout the day, not explaining her actions despite all his pleading. These episodes were nothing new, but every time they occurred within his mother the fear would grip his heart so fiercely it hurt, and the panic would claw at his head and make it spin. _

"_Y-yes mommy?" Cloud's lips trembled, his blue eyes watering slightly._

_She noticed, and sighed, lifting a hand to stroke his face. "Oh, baby, don't cry, don't worry, I'm fine. I just... spaced out for a time, okay? Now, Cloud, tell me, do you know the name of this boy?"_

_Cloud nodded timidly. He sensed the trigger for his mother's most recent break down had been the kiss from the boy, and as such guilt began to worm its way inward, pressuring the tears to break free and spill down his face. That would only make it worse though. Cloud knew. His mother got impossibly upset when he cried._

"_What was his name, dear?" she kept her voice light and comforting now, trying to reassure him. She placed her thin arms around him soothingly, eyes filled with concern._

"_Axel," Cloud told her._

"_And how did he look?"_

"_Um, he had red hair n' green eyes. And he was like this tall," Cloud raised a hand a few inches above his head to indicate the length of the boy. "And he was really, really nice, mommy. He didn't want to hurt me, I know it!" Cloud told her, face cheerless but brewing with intense certitude._

_Yet again, she sighed. "I know, Cloud that he probably meant no harm, and it must have taken a lot of courage to do that so openly, but... Cloud, remember how I told you kisses represent a form of love?" The blonde nodded solemnly, unsure where this was leading. "Well, there are some bad people in the world who like to 'steal kisses'. They're very selfish people, who think that if they want they can kiss people whenever and where ever they like. And they try to be nice and polite, and try to be your friend to lead you places away from your mommy and daddy, even giving you presents, just so they can kiss you and do horrible, horrible things like beat you up. That's why I want you to always stay close to me, at all times when there is another person around, unless I say otherwise, okay? And if anyone ever says or does, or Gaia forbid, touches you strangely in ways that make you uncomfortable, like when your stomach gets all queasy and you want to get away, then come tell me immediately, and scream and shout and kick at the person, alright? And I'll never be mad at you for that? You got that baby?"_

_Cloud was no longer looking at his troubled mother. Instead Cloud stared dejectedly at the floor, feeling ashamed for making his mother so worried about him. And then there were the 'kiss-stealers'. Like his father's friend, or the weird man at the bus stop who his mother had glared at when he tried to touch Cloud, and the countless others that were eager to share their sudden affinity for Cloud and his mother with them upon sight. Cloud wondered if they longed for 'sex' too. That was something people did out of love, right?_

"_Why?" Cloud said suddenly, releasing the floodgates of his torment finally, the salty liquid pouring down his face. It felt as if a huge burden had been placed upon his shoulders. "Why, mommy? Why me?"_

"_Because you resemble me, Cloud," She lifted his chin so that he could see her own disturbed features. "Because you resemble me, and you resemble your father. Having our blood in you Cloud, gave you your face," She took a deep breath next, steadying herself. "But, you'll love it when you're older. Your face will prove to be a lot of help then, Cloud!" she tried a small smile. "Until then you stay with me, so I can protect you from all the bad guys. When you grow up, you'll be able to ask me for help if you want to keep them away, but by then I'll have taught you how to stay safe, so you can stand on your own if you want."_

"_Mommy, don't worry! Someday, when I'm older, I'll be strong enough to protect both of us! I'll be brave n' cool n' very, very strong! Nothing will ever hurt you then!"_

_She laughed quietly. "Oh, really?"_

"_Yeah! Just wait!"_

_Ms. Strife smiled again, and Cloud couldn't help but notice a touch of misery lingered there, but it was abruptly forgotten as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Cloud. My little angel baby."_

"_...mommy?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Is Axel a 'kiss-stealer'?"_

"_Oh, no baby, I don't think so."_

"_T-Then why—?"_

"_His brother is..." _

Cloud shook his head at the memory, leaning down again to check Vincent's injuries. The memory was one of his oldest and most significant; being the first true lecture he had ever received from his loving mother. Yet even to this day, Cloud struggled with one single sentence that bemused him, irritated him irrationally and more than likely held no other meaning than that of polite and thorough explanation. Leaving out the other title would've generated more questions from his young and inquisitive mouth, and his mother clearly desired to move on from such a morbid subject. She never liked discussing _him_, even back then. Even so, it bothered him, for Cloud had the sculpted features of the traitor etched forever in his conscious. His mother always complimented him upon it, in the endearing tone she would use when describing how he looked like so much his father, and that he had given him his pretty face.

But for the life of him Cloud could never remember an instance in his life in which Verdot would be considered 'pretty'.

* * *

**Author's Note: Heh heh! Check out the prologue paragraphs from before, and the first chapter—and even this one—I began practically every single one with "Cloud", or "Vincent" DX...Awe...Oh well; I'll just have to avoid it from now on. I heard that you're not actually supposed to move a person who is critically injured without a stretcher and everything, but I'm not a medic, and neither is Cloud, so Vincent just had to deal with it. And the phone stuff is true—I have no idea how my peers are able to work these tiny cell phones with pictures. Pressing something wrong is like the end of the world, because then you get stuck there. T^T And, whoa, what a **_**looong **_**flashback, eh? I know—way too long just to explain his mother's warning, but I wanted to add some length to the chapter without adding in Cloud's home. Sorry about Cloud's speech there—I was wondering how to make it as realistic as possible, but I'm no good with dialogue for children (even though I live with so many). I know how they sound, and their words often slur together in a jumble and make it hard to understand, so I thought I'd save any readers the trouble. Please tell me by the way if I call Cloud's mother by anything other than 'his mother' or 'Ms. Strife' cause I originally had another name for her but then decided to change it for the plot, and I might have missed any changes.**


	4. Thoughts on Love

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

* * *

**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Three**

**Thoughts on Love**

* * *

_The Frozen Heart_

_I freeze, I freeze, and nothing dwels_

_In me but Snow, and _ysicles_._

_For pitties sake give your advice,_

_To melt this snow, and thaw this ice;_

_I'le drink down Flames, but if so be_

_Nothing but love can supple me;_

_I'le rather keepe this frost, and snow,_

_Than to be thaw'd, or heated so._

_-to the extent of my knowledge, 'Anonymous'_

* * *

Vincent Valentine did not enjoy being touched. For as long as he could remember, he had a tendency to discourage, blatantly, contact of any sort, unless he was the one dolling it out. Paranoia just made him feel uncomfortable having a lingering presence on his skin, its cause out of his control.

Of course, Vincent could fill volumes upon volumes of books consisting of his least favourite things. He doubted a single library would contain the massive, infinite list, including his dislike of the colour pink, roses of all species due to their ridiculously placed thorns, and books of fantasy worlds or alternate dimensions written by desperate, reality-exhausted authors. He hated scratchy, itchy materials, showers which obstructed his vision (in dealing with both the weather and the bathroom), annoying attention prone kittens with boundless curiosity, and sports played in the field or dirt. There were small things that fell under this category simply out of personal preference, such as smudged ink or graphite on paper, to larger irritations due to the palpable faults, such as the decision-making process used in Nibelheim's Board of Education. Vincent thought little of profanity, rap, country, hip-hop, rock or modern music of any kind that had no deeper meaning or sense to the lyrics that he could not relate with. He could not tolerate messes of any sort.

As a result, it would be very hard to please Valentine. The dark-haired man was solitary, with few acquaintances outside 'work', and only one true friend who was his devoted and loyal 'blood brother'*****. He had, however, acquired a taste for his friend's homemade tea, and could relax, albeit slightly, in a lavender scented tub with a fine tragedy in hand. He leaned towards a leather-filled wardrobe. These simple things were usually variables in his life under his influence, or heavily affected by him. For example, he had the choice to drink the tea, scent the tub, read the book, buy, or wear the clothes. Reality was that Vincent had the strong desire to be in power. It was a second-natured, prominent part of his lifestyle.

Upon the topic of love, Vincent hesitated to give comments. He had no experiences with it, as such he had no reason to judge whether it was to his fancy. Of course, he thought some of the common conceptions of love were ludicrous, such as how it could possess not only the heart but also the mind, body and soul in one instant, and the release was like ripping the very essence of you away from yourself. He doubted there was a possibility of finding truelove. How could anyone know truelove? Was it some primal instinct that would ensnare the senses? He reasoned you would have to encounter and judge every single person on the planet before deciding on the one with the best-suited ideals and personality. Naturally, this was an impossibility, as countless infants were born every day and you would be dead before they could all grow to have enough intelligence and experience for such a relationship. Vincent presumed there was some internal time limit for each soul that would eventually sound the alarm when time was up, and the person would be stuck with whoever was currently in their presence until the timer could wind itself up again, and they would be off. That or you worked out all the pros and cons of the partners you've had before comparing them to the current one to determine if they were close enough to your expectations.

At one point, the raven-head could recall being asked what 'his type' was. With further inquiry, he learned that your 'type' was the condensed version of the question "What is your ideal truelove's personality and appearance?"

Since he had been very concerned for this person at the time, a time long ago when he willingly voiced his beliefs, he had decided to humour them.

* * *

"_Vinnie, tell me something!"_

"_You should rest and sleep. You're sick."_

"_I will if you listen to me."_

"_Hah, okay. What?"_

"_What's your type?"_

"_Type? What do you mean?"_

"_Well, Cissy was telling me about how her type would be strong and tall and handsome, and really, um, pre-tec-tive—"_

"_Oh, you mean who I would like?"_

"_Yah! Cissy calls it her 'truelove'! So, what's yours?"_

"_...Fifi, I don't think I have one."_

"_Hey, don't call me Fifi!"_

"_Why not? You call me Vinnie."_

"_Because I – (cough) – I'm not – (cough) (cough) (cough) – I –"_

"_Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I won't call you that anymore! Just, please, lie back down."_

"_(Cough) – 'K-Kay."_

"_..."_

"_So, what would they be?"_

"_Hah...here, drink this. I don't know why I'm telling you—hey, drink slowly! There you go. Pff, you're such a baby."_

"_I'm not a baby!"_

"_Yeah, yeah, sure. My type, huh? Well, I guess they'd be... pretty—"_

"_Wow, big surprise, Vinnie."_

"_... I am not done. Be quiet._

"'_Kay, 'Kay, go on!"_

"_Hah... they'd have nice soft hair—"_

"_Like a kitty's!"_

"_..."_

"_..."_

"_..."_

"_Okay, I'll shut up."_

"_Thank you. So, the hair would have to be short too."_

"_Why?"_

"_I don't know. I just want them to have short hair. And big eyes."_

"_Eew, like a bug's?"_

"_Yeah, like a bug's and yours, all huge and stupid and gross."_

"_Hey! Meanie!"_

"_Ow, don't throw things. I was joking. Their eyes are bright and shiny like stars."_

"_Hmm...What else?"_

"_Hey, my sleeve's damp now. They would be smaller than me, and... Peachy coloured."_

"_Peachy coloured?"_

"_Yeah." _

"_Pff, that's not a word!"_

"_It's a colour."_

"_No, _peach _is a colour. What you said is something dumb you made up."_

"_Fine, you know what, I like white skin better anyhow. They have skin like the moon."_

"_Wow, eyes like stars, small body, skin like the moon. And short hair—hey Vinnie, are they an alien?"_

"_Alright, y'know what? I'm not talking to you anymore."_

"_No! No, I'm sorry! Please, tell me more, Vincent!"_

"_..."_

"_Vincent?"_

"_Shush, I'm thinking."_

"_Heehee, wow, does it hurt?"_

"_Only for you. Now, shut up. Let's see, they would have to be nice—"_

"_Like Cissy!"_

"_No, wrong, Cissnei _isn't_ nice. She just pretends so she can get away with things like stealing."_

"_You steal too!"_

"_Only from rich, stuck-up people, not poor kids and parents. Anyway, my type would be... shy, I think."_

"_Shy? Why shy?"_

"_Lie down! Shy because then they wouldn't be loud or rude or anything."_

"_Heh heh, rude. Rude's rude!"_

"_Oh, ha ha, very funny. Are we done?"_

"_What colour are their eyes?"_

"_I dunno', something deep, like green or blue or purple."_

"_Well, not red like yours or it'd be gross."_

"_My eyes _are not _gross."_

"_Yes they are! They're, like, the colour of _blood_, Vinnie."_

"_Whatever."_

"_I think they should have red hair."_

"_How does that make sense? Red hair, but not red eyes?"_

"_Not blood red! And I like red hair, so there!"_

"_I like black."_

"_Black hair? But it only looks good long!"_

"_Not true. Your hair is short, and its fine."_

"_Hmph, well, medium hair then. And longer at the front."_

"_Why?"_

"_Cuz' it's cool!"_

"_Sure it is."_

"_Hey! Vinnie, let go of my hair! (Cough)"_

"_Ah!"_

"_(Cough) – I'm – (cough) – fine!"_

"_Here, drink some more. Look at the time—I'll get your medicine."_

"_(Cough) (cough)"_

"_Here."_

"_Thanks."_

"_... Are you going to tell me your type?"_

"_Nuh-uh, you'd laugh."_

"_I don't laugh."_

"_Well, you would get all mean and bossy and make fun of me."_

"_Sure I would."_

"_..."_

"_..."_

"_Y'know, Vinnie, I think Cissnei likes you."_

"_... Why?"_

"_Cuz' you're so stupid you'll do everything she says!"_

"_No, why do _you _think she likes me?"_

"_Oh, 'cause she talks about you. A lot. And I found her drawing stick people of you. And she sleeps with that shirt you gave her under her pillow."_

"_Right."_

"_..."_

"_..."_

"_Hey, Vinnie, do you think they'd like me?"_

"_Who?"_

"_Your type?"_

"_Well, that's the last part, silly. They'd only be my type if they would make friends with you."_

"_Awe, Vinnie, are you blushing?"_

"_Hey let go! Get off!"_

"_You are the best! No way!"_

* * *

The conversation was faded and distant, slipping away over the years just as the person had them self. It seemed the memory suffered from the same symptoms the person had. First, the blurry fog would appear in the vision, obscuring the sight, followed by a consuming darkness, and eventually the dialogue would vanish from his mind forever. The memory would disappear from his head like the person from his life and the emotion from his heart. He would never lay claim to either again.

Vincent deduced in the end that love was not something for one such as him. He may have known nothing of the heartfelt, burning emotion that was boasted in romance novels and rare in reality, but he was in no way simple or ignorant. Love required specific actions and gestures, both physical and emotional. It needed nurturing, honesty, perseverance, and a strong desire to be with your significant other (something Vincent lacked).

From those issues alone, Vincent was barely tolerating the idea. What threw love off the deep end for the young man boiled down to the sincere, emotional exchanges of caresses, the embraces and strokes, the formation of two bodies into a single entity. While the concept was to mould two into one, each person still had their separate control and mindset, operating individually to become a team, understanding one another so deeply to collaborate. In those moments, each was exposed and extremely, extremely weak.

Vincent could not sacrifice enough of himself for those acts. He would never let anyone know or see so much about him, allow himself to be placed in danger for the sake of someone else's' satisfaction, or have himself be judged by another, freely passing the control and choice to another.

He was not a virgin in any way, though. His bisexual nature provided him with plenty of one-night-stands, and week longs flings. A single woman had managed to entice him to the point of staying with her for a period of two months, the longest record so far. The runner up was a brash, vulgar man named Hikaru, thirty-four years old. Hikaru still took the bottom, still ended up bleeding between his thighs, with bites and bruises, like every pleasurable encounter of the raven-haired man's. He was with many, and was always dominant. Will and immense strength surpassed size and age any day.

Vincent didn't care for a single one of them. He was _using _them, viciously and callously, to sooth his urges his drive for not only sex, but power. Vincent was drawn to the possessive, aggressive nature of sex like a bee to honey, revelling in it immensely, wrapped in the sights and tastes, and the overall electricity of the moment, but not really giving a damn about the partner's wellbeing. There was always a way to get more. Use more money, use more pollen, in either scenario it had the same basic effect. More honey or more whores.

With the red-eyed man, you listened to his directions in bed to avoid the least pain possible. You were in his world then, playing by his rules.

And, of course, with love, there are no rules, and no restraints, where one is supreme and ruling above the other, the dominant putting their own needs above and beyond their lover's, and not willing to reveal more about themselves than their unquenchable lust.

With love, fate intertwines and becomes uncertain, so Vincent disdained.

Moreover, what right did anyone have to know his thoughts on love?

* * *

**Author's Note: Whoot, another chapter completed! Finally! Wow, I have to tell you all I wrote this at about one in the morning and finished handwriting it by three thirty-ish, then proceeded to type it all out and edit it. Yah, thank the insomnia people, thank the insomnia! -_- Okay, so Vincent in this chapter has what is called a 'blood brother'. It is not his biological brother, but a 'brother' he gained by performing some weird old-fashioned guys' ritual (don't think they use it anymore) where two guys will cut the face of their palms with a knife and clasp hands, and recite some vows and stuff. And you're a real scumbag if you betray your 'blood brother', and some people believe fate (or karma, whatever) will punish you if you do so. So, yeah, the bond is pretty tight, which is exactly what I wanted for Vinnie and his friend. His friend, I think, is pretty obvious and unoriginal. Vincent is paranoid for a reason, he does not like sleeping, or anyone taking away his vision. He doesn't need it mind you (he's like some super weird awesome fighter pro that is so in tune with his senses he can hear and feel vibrations to pinpoint attacks, lol), but it's ... you'll all find out later, 'Kay? He seems to be coming across as a real selfish asshole at this point, and I apologize. I wanted him to seem cold, and mysterious to make future content believable (like some of the stuff Reno wants to tell Cloud about, rumours, etc.). People really do not know much about him, just that they need to avoid him. Whenever he said 'Hah' in the dialogue, it meant he was sighing, by the way.**

**I am so happy; I got four reviews (last time I checked) and some favourites and alerts, so I feel satisfied with myself. **

**And reviews are very much appreciated, peeps, so please do me a favour!**


	5. Blond, Redhead, Brunet

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII/VIII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

* * *

**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Four**

**Blond, Redhead, Brunet**

**

* * *

**

_Corinne's Last Love Song_

_How beautiful, how beautiful you streamed upon my sight,_

_In glory and in grandeur, as a gorgeous sunset-light!_

_How softly, soul-subduing, fell your words upon mine ear,_

_Like low aerial music when some angel hovers near!_

_What tremulous, faint ecstasy to clasp your hands in mine,_

_Till the darkness fell upon me of a glory too divine!_

_The air around grew languid with our intermingled breath,_

_And in your beauty's shadow I sank motionless as death._

_I saw you not, I heard not, for a mist was on my brain-_

_I only felt that life could give no joy like that again._

-_Jane Francesca, Lady Wilde_

_

* * *

_

_His vision was fuzzy, tainted by scores of white blotches that blended into the central image, the person his weary eyes were trying to focus on. The scene before him was oddly coloured, distorted further by pink and red hues. The colour array did nothing to diminish the effect of the eyes... the intense azure pools that gazed with unexplainable emotions, wide and beautiful, strands of some light colour drifting across them. His vision jerked, a sharp pain ripping across its surface as his sight changed much like a camera transition, zooming out to reveal a young delicate face of smooth skin in front of a bruise coloured sky, the only thing marring the face being an expression of worry. Then the camera jumped back to the eyes before receding farther than before, revealing narrow shoulders and strange styled hair, oddly suiting the creature before him. The spasms in his sight continued as the being shifted and moved, and a light presence passed over portions of his body that he knew were the touches of the blue-eyed beauty. A touch of familiarity reached his heart, a feeling of warm safety enveloping him as he willed his body to move. He wanted to touch it...to feel it...make it real for him..._

_ The enrapturing angel with the blue gem eyes._

_

* * *

_

_ He somehow knew that he had moved, position changed, eyes still warped by the same colours, which appeared to be like a mess of angry yet smooth paint lines. He could just see wisps of some bright colour in the corner of his vision as a comforting embrace surrounded him. As quickly as the feeling had come, it left, the angel reappearing momentarily as he slumped against a rigid, uncomfortable object that only touched a small part of him. He could no longer react, call the angel back as it stood, dark legs walking away._

_ Yet it seemed to sense his emotions, his terror of being abandoned by the angel and it revealing itself to truly be a dream, for it re-entered his sight and knelt before him, providing comfort yet again in the oddest way through a simple touch. He did nothing this time, afraid of being too greedy, a dull part of him reminding him that touching something so pure with such filthy hands would easily corrupt it, one touch a satisfying enough amount._

_ He did not mind giving up control to at least _this _creature._

_ He was curious as to why he was drifting in and out consciousness, yet still remained within the same timeframe. He knew somehow that it was at least the same day as each previous awakening, and it was confusing. Why was he in such a state to begin with? Why couldn't he get a firm grasp on reality? He realized this was not how it should be—his vision, helplessness, all of it. Even the contact between the angel and himself shouldn't have been allowed. Yet it was._

_

* * *

_

_ Once again, he was somewhere different, only now the hues were darker, gloomier, as though light was fading. Beyond the angel, everything was black. He still could feel the steady heartbeat of the being, pressed against its form in some way, flashes of yellow appearing in his peripheral vision, and a jarring began beneath his body. He was moving—or rather, they were moving, within some contraption... he didn't give it much thought, instead turning to feeling out his muscles, wondering now if it was possible to move them. He wanted to turn the angel back towards him, redirect its attention so that once more his could gaze in solid, reassuring blue. Even if he couldn't lay a hand on such purity, he could at least make noise enough to make it look at him._

_ He so desperately wanted the angel to look at him._

_

* * *

_

The ride went quietly and quickly, Vincent's head slumped awkwardly against Cloud's chest in an attempt to conceal the raven-head's face from the driver. The glass was dark and tinted, bullet proof to protect the cab driver, but Cloud knew they would be able to clearly view their passengers' appearances and activities. He attentively slipped his old, torn scarf further up Vincent's nose, wincing at every bump in the road, which was a regular incident.

It had occurred to Cloud, a few minutes before his rides arrival, that Vincent, upholding an infamous reputation, would be familiar to many people and provide a valuable hostage. Certainly, the Aviso member would be on the "death-wish-list" of many individuals within Barrenville. Cloud thought for a moment before reaching into his bag and drawing out a worn down teal scarf that he had been too lazy to throw away, wrapping it around Vincent's lower face until it rested just below closed, bruised eyes. He had also gathered Vincent's clothing about him as best he could before dragging the body into the rusty yellow car with as much grace as he could manage. Keeping the long body spread over cramped seats with him while also sitting was proving difficult, but Cloud remained emotionless as he stared out the window, checking they were taking the right turns into the correct neighbourhood, mind consumed about how best to approach Vincent's injuries.

Relief washed over him as he spotted the Marigold Complexes, four different tall, ugly yellow buildings with the letters A to D pasted in large letters on the sides. The apartments were considered the upper class of the lower class, where most promising thugs in a group resided while they moved up the ranks and increased their income. Each room had a small indentation for a balcony, accompanied by a crusted metal rail. The first three floors had boarded-up windows, the bottommost one using metal instead of wood. Inside, all the walls of the hallways would be coated in simple, smoke stained whitewash and rugged roan carpets, with cigarette burns, cracks and dents. A few gritty elevators, activated by special card-keys (room keys), sat in the lobby, and if Cloud was lucky, the corridor on his way up would be deserted, given the time.

After paying his fare and placing Vincent on his shoulders once again, Cloud stared appreciatively at his home, pulling open the doors to complex D, with some trouble due to the weight of the lumber used for the door and his unconscious companion. He was beginning to worry about Vincent's health as he walked to an empty elevator and swiped his card, pushing the button for the fifth floor. If the man lost too much blood, Cloud would be forced to seek medical attention, as in the hospital, which wouldn't be smart, with Vincent being _the_ Vincent Valentine and also being vulnerable. Attack was too likely.

Standing before a red, paint chipped door with the number fifty-seven carved into its surface below the spy hole, Cloud fumbled for his card, back in his right pocket after the short elevator ride, stumbling as Vincent's weight slipped and the thin plastic dropped from his hands. He was just leaning to pick it up when the door swung inwards, and loud music and voices reached his ears. Blue eyes glanced upwards in alarm as the blonde jerked back, avoiding the body that was exiting and distracted.

"—Fuck you, Reno, you asshole!" The individual shouted, laughing, just as they turned to the falling Cloud. "Hoi!" A strong grip wrapped around his arm and yanked him out of his descent, and Cloud teetered on his feet for a second as he tried to regain his balance. "What the hell, Cloud?" The person steadied him easily, and Cloud finally looked up, recognizing the voice. Short gold hair was slicked back from an angled, comely face, **cerulean-green pools*** wide and shocked at the sight before them, a thin scar running from the left, between the eyes to the top part of the right cheek, form broadly built but in a pleasant manner. Seifer Almasy.

There was scrambling behind the blond as a redhead with loose tumbling locks held back slightly by black tinted goggles, clad in unzipped jeans and nothing else just like Seifer, approached the doorway warily, tall lanky form peering around his friend. "Shit!" He gasped at Cloud and immediately drew him inside, Seifer hefting Vincent off the smaller blonde's shoulders. Cloud focussed on the men that were heaving his unconscious and soon-to-be-patient into the room, eyes wide. "Damn Cloud, what happened?"

"Reno, pendant, top drawer, now," Cloud ordered, wasting no time and disregarding Reno's question. Answers could wait until later, when Vincent was in better condition. "There's a possibility he lost too much blood." Cloud kept his explanation simple, giving reason to avoid hesitation from his roommate. Reno's eyes flashed with uncertainty but he complied swiftly, dashing away and leaving Seifer with the burden of the raven-head's full weight.

Seifer gathered Vincent into a more flexible position as Reno left, placing a muscled arm around the raven-head's chest and underneath his arms, allowing the Aviso member's limbs to flop freely back and forth, as the taller blond moved.

Cloud didn't pause to rest, already feeling the strain of his muscles after carrying much more than his regular body weight. Instead, Cloud went to a small closet in the hall, and stood on his toes to reach one of the higher shelves, filled with some of his regular supplies. He drew out a coarse obsidian folded mat and grabbed lower down for a bulky silver suitcase.

Seifer waited for Cloud to come back, nudging furniture to the sides with his legs to make room for the laying of the mat, which was where the injured party was usually placed. Cloud was already analysing and estimating as he spread the fabric, large for three people to lay on comfortably. Cloud assisted Seifer with lowering Vincent down before moving over the unconscious man, thinking ahead as he placed the suitcase nearby. Seifer wordlessly stood back, prepared to help if asked, but he couldn't contain the look he was giving the slighter blond.

Cloud knew what the look meant—_everyone_ would be curious as to why he had dragged _Vincent Valentine _into _their_ home at so late a time on a Friday. He had no time to elaborate as he swiftly opened the case, a First-Aid kit filled with more than just the regular medical items. Cloud was studying in the medical field, and Reno was a Turk. The demand for knowledge and experience coupled with the reoccurring injuries required more than a basic bandage. Moreover, Reno had access to materials that were extremely expensive or rare in these parts that Cloud found useful.

"Seifer, get me some water and cloths, I've got to clean up this mess," Cloud nodded to the blond, who left as well. Cloud surveyed the blood staining Vincent's pale form as he removed clothing to allow access to the damage. Reno returned then, handing a bronze amulet to the small blonde, watching just as suspiciously as all the others.

As curious as they were, the other men didn't linger, already familiar with the circumstances necessary for Cloud to work, simply refilling the water, as it turned too coppery to be of any use, taking turns replacing the tubs.

Cloud had never operated on anything in an emergency, and he definitely didn't have the legal qualifications to so much as examine a sprain. He was no doctor—not yet, at least. However, he did spend quite a bit of time in the company of very sarcastic, loud-mouthed individuals involved in "criminal activities". Cloud also investigated his pursued field with a strong passion, resulting in adequate education on how to deal with bodily damage. He had dealt with shattered bones, raining blood, screams of pain, unhinged jaws, and bullet wounds and even administered several risky shots. The man before him wasn't really a challenge.

The questioning gazes slightly unnerved him, but he pushed past them, absent-mindedly making a note of his own. One person was missing, a person particularly important to Cloud, and especially to Seifer. Something had to be wrong if Seifer had arrived so unexpectedly and that person was not here with him.

It was as he removed gunk from the porcelain skin that Cloud began to see changes. Even as he swiped dried blood from an area to reveal the actual cause of the leaked fluid, he found no cut, no scar or wound to draw such amounts of blood. Cloud kept calm as he re-examined the rest of Vincent, now cleansed and bare, both back and front, though Cloud had refrained from taking Vincent's black silk boxers and ventured only so far to dab away the spilt life fluid, which hadn't been far up. No matter how close to nudity Cloud had seen any man be, he still couldn't help being uncomfortable around a naked man, let alone a sleeping one. Just what would Cloud say if he woke up?

There was nothing there, and Cloud apprehensively felt over the toned chest to check...

Just as he suspected. No broken ribs and no peeling flesh. Cloud applied pressure yet again to known areas, observing how the twisted arm was in a more regular position and free of swelling, no evidence of any injury. Cloud was mystified. Vincent was fully healed.

The oddest part had to be the glass bits, tarnished by blood, littered around Vincent's body.

Eyes narrowed in thought as they took in the facts and the only possible conclusion presented itself. Vincent had _mako_ in his body. Yet it was, uniquely, indistinct, without the trait Cloud learned to associate with a mako-enhanced being. Where were the azure-emerald smitten eyes that Seifer claimed _every _person with mako had, because it was unavoidable? Where was the essence of green that usually flowed off the body as it stitched itself back together? Where were the _symptoms_?

Immediately, Cloud's curiosity was piqued, but he suppressed it as he reached for the pendant Reno had brought, and, wishing to ensure Vincent would be okay, Cloud activated the shards of materia within. He felt the cool, smooth texture of the metal and stone under his fingertips. A soft green light began to show, glowing brighter as Cloud coaxed it to the surface, falling easily into the habit of closing his mind and drawing power from within.

_Vincent Valentine... just who are you?_

_

* * *

_

Cloud sighed as he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, rubbing tired eyes. He felt sticky and tired, Vincent's blood still slathered on his face and in blonde locks, also destroying his clothing. Reno and Seifer hadn't said a word as they helped Cloud dress the man in clean clothing, put everything away and place him in Cloud's bedroom, as the blonde requested. Nor had they opposed them when he asked them to leave him alone for a while, to pause and think after so much strain had been placed on his slender form.

Now, Cloud desired nothing more than a scalding shower to was the signs of death from him. Blood was a signal for the loss of life to Cloud, and although he could handle the sight of it, he disliked handling it. He reached into the same small closet, intent on drawing out a towel, clothes already slung over his arm.

The apartment was fair-sized, a bit on the slighter side. It had two bedrooms, a guest and a master, despite there not being much difference between. Each room had a small closet inside, but Reno's, being the one with the sliding door to the balcony, was the only one with a window. The one and a half bathrooms were located at opposite ends of the hall, and on opposite sides. The living room was comfortable enough, and the kitchenette was closed, with one open doorway separating it from the rest. Each room was painted more to both Cloud's and Reno's tastes, and furnished accordingly, although Cloud did most of the design work when they had first endeavoured to buy furniture because Reno quite plainly was satisfied with having the large screen TV hung from the wall and nothing else other than beer and an ashtray. As a result, most of the colours were contemporary, working with reds, deep browns and black and white, and the complimentary pieces were unique yet simple.

Though the pair were not cocky with the knowledge, and took the time to secure their home, Cloud and Reno really had no problems with thievery simply because of the nature of most occupants of the Marigold Properties, meaning they had the same sort of protection for them as the Diamond Pit. If you robbed something from here, it had better be valuable enough to compensate for your life, what with so many gang members renting there. There was no taking without giving in Barrenville.

Cloud reached for a striped towel, annoyed now by how short he was compared to how high everything was stored. He was just making below average with his petite stature, reaching 5"7 without his impressive hair, which gave another inch. He was, in this household, the shortest member of their bizarre group, the next smallest being 5"11, after that 6 foot, followed up by an impressive 6"2 with Seifer. Reno was an even six feet, while the second shortest was—

Cloud gasped in surprise as strong arms caught his shoulders and spun him around to peer at searching cold blue-grey. Speak of the Devil... a hand let go and lifted to brush his face, where dried red still lingered. Cloud caught the hand and nudged it away gently, returning the gaze firmly.

"Don't worry Leon, I'm fine. It's not my blood," Cloud explained to the expressionless, calm brunet who so often occupied the space at Seifer's side. His skin was a light bronze tan on a tall, lean muscular body, and his eyes were a frigid blue tempest. Chocolate brown hair, a few inches long, curved around his handsome head. The head that bore a single deformity; a mirror of Seifer's scar. "Go to Seifer; I'm sure he'll explain it to you."

Leon hesitated before nodding slowly and releasing Cloud, who was looking at him just as curiously as the brunet was to the blonde. Why was the couple here? It was yet another question Cloud would have to ask after his interrogation about Vincent finished, which would be sure to drag on for hours, due to Reno's present—but denied—protective streak.

Cloud took his leave, ready to bask in the flow of hot water, and mule over everything that had happened so far. He went to the half bathroom, dropping his clothes on a shelf and his dirtied ones to the floor. He stepped into the shower before the water had heated up, but bore the cold stream easily. He really just needed a haven for the time.

He had about a million questions shooting through his head, mostly about Vincent. Like just how had the man become so brutally beaten? It was _Vincent Valentine_, to those who knew him, the most dangerous man alive. Cloud had not ever seen him in action, but Seifer, apparently, had. Seifer and Reno made it their priority to know _every _treacherous face in Barrenville, and Vincent, though not as widely recognized among the general public, was enemy number one in every serious gangs' bingo book, though mostly to the higher ups. To be considered a threat by Seifer meant a lot—Vincent had to have inhuman strength of some sort to scare the blonde, and obviously skill. How could such a small and ignorant group of ingrates have possibly mutilated him? Why had they done so, if not to kill him or rob him? Perhaps they were sending a message—but to challenge Vincent in such away would require some confidence, and the backing of the most powerful gang in all of Barrenville—JENOVA—in order to oppose Aviso. That was impossible, however, since that particular group only took in prodigies or severely talented or enhanced beings, and "Faye" and his men had not been exceptional in any way.

Vincent was bursting with mako, a performance-augmenting drug. In order to have healed in such a way, in such rapid time, the amount would have to be enormous, Cloud knew, yet Vincent showed no real signs of alteration. Not the customary green-blue eyes, or ghosts of green tendrils that would emerge during curing, or even the real muscle development that occurred, boosting the size of any regular muscle mass by at least double, and not needing any maintenance or exercise to remain. It was practically driving Cloud insane, the contradictions of everything he knew about the drug...

_And_ Cloud now had to figure out a way to prevent Vincent from finding out who exactly had cared for him, because a possibility remained that the black-haired man would go after the redhead, being in separate gangs and all...

Cloud balled his hands into fists as he ran them, coated with shampoo, through his hair. Gaia, it was so frustrating! Now that the adrenaline rush and urgency of the situation had worn off, Cloud was coming to terms with just how complicated the entire thing was. Reno was a dear friend to him... now he was in potential danger, along with Seifer and Leon, because of their guest. No matter how much Cloud wished to convince himself that Vincent wouldn't harm his friends unless they raised arms against him, Cloud knew that inevitably, the teen would be pitted opposing to them simply because of his position.

Cloud sighed, leaning tiredly against the front wall of the shower, forehead on the sable tiles and hands to either side. He didn't want to deliberate what Vincent's presence would signify anymore. He'd have to discuss it with the others. He wondered how he'd fare against them, as he no longer had the excuse of caring for Vincent, his body already working on the problem of blood loss and having solved the threat of his grievances.

Cloud stood back up, rinsing the soap from his hair, focussing his attention now on the other surprise of the day. The arrival of Leon and Seifer...

Seifer and Leon Almasy (also known as Leon Leonhart), legally married, were the most intriguing couple Cloud knew. With a past fit to rue, both were older than even Reno, at twenty-nine (Seifer) and twenty-seven (Leon), the redhead only twenty-five.

Seifer had explained their story to Cloud just last winter. It was grim and depressing, but had a light at the end of its dark tunnel. To keep it as "gore less" as possible (upon the command of Reno), Seifer had stuck to the basics, and the politics of his situation a secret.

All that Cloud had been told was that Seifer joined a mercenary group at a young age, rising quickly through the ranks with subsequent successful missions. One time, when he was in an extremely influential seat of power, and one of the few legendary figures, his group of operatives was instructed to demolish a bank, the one that contained, secretly, the latest shipment of heroin, placed under _government_ protection. Don Corneo, a king pin of Nibelheim, who sent bribes to higher placed individuals to ignore his illegal operations, was the owner. The load was stored in a hidden vault somewhere beneath the bank, and some of the Seifer's men had taken a young concubine of Corneo's captive, as they knew the access codes through the labyrinth of steel walls under the building. Lieutenant and sex slave met that night for an interrogation. Thus, Seifer Almasy and Leon (back then named Squall) Leonhart were introduced.

Bizarrely. Leon willingly supplied information (investigated to be true), the endeavour going off without a hitch. It turned out the Don's favourite "toy" despised him, and took pleasure in selling him out. The mercenary blonde took in Leon and romance soon followed.

Don Corneo, furious and vengeful, managed to kidnap Leon to perform all types of malicious torture for his betrayal. Seifer chased after. Within a week, Don Corneo lay six feet under, and Leon laid curled in a loving embrace. The brunet had been rescued, but not before the cynical Corneo carved a scar in the reverse of Seifer's well known one, and damaged his throat to prevent speech (which was why they all knew sign language and how to read Leon's emotions).

Now Seifer was "retired", proclaimed dead after his mysterious disappearance. The blonde deemed it safer to hide out among the regulars of Barrenville than to remain in the Diamond Pit, so he had whisked Leon away to Marigold Apartments, living off the accumulation of money gained from Seifer's time in the field. Seifer and Leon were the only regular visitors and close friends Reno had that Cloud knew of, and they grew on him quickly. They were complex yet understandable, not predictable in a sense, but Cloud found he could relate easily to them and they were relatively easy to talk with. There was many a day where Leon (who was actually well educated in spite of his former status) would assist Cloud with homework or teach him self-defence while the other blonde and redhead went out to get smashed, or engage in other, more "business-like" activities, including Turk work. The young blue-eyed boy appreciated how much trust Seifer had in him to leave him alone with the brunet, as Seifer was suspicious of all except Reno, as him and the redhead were best friends and blood-brothers. The tall male was exceedingly protective of Leon, after past incidents and the nature of their environment. The feeling of being trusted was nice, thus, Cloud never wanted to lose that trust.

The strange part about them being here was the fact that the two lovebirds had been vacationing outside of Barrenville, and weren't due to return until at least another week from their trip to Costa del Sol, the popular beach front city Seifer boasted about. For a moment, before Leon had cornered him in the hall, Cloud had thought things had taken a turn for the worse, and that some sort of negative event had taken place, leaving Leon hurt or confined to Costa del Sol, or some other hazardous location, because the stormy-eyed man had not been present. There was a slight relief when Leon found Cloud, the blonde remembering now how the brunet had been wearing flannel pyjamas and had tussled brown strands from sleep. Leon had been napping in Reno's room. The brunet had never been fond of flying and seeing how they had come unexpectedly, the pair must have just flown home, Leon sleeping off the dizziness that always accompanied him after a flight. Leon claimed to have a fear of containment, and was claustrophobic. So now, Cloud just pondered the reason for returning early.

Cloud finished his shower and stepped into more comfortable clothing, shorts and a cyan hoodie, assessing just how badly his other outfit was spoiled.

The red-brown stains were splotched all over the back of his clothing, much darker on his top than his pants, but still spottable on both. The colours were too light for the blood to stand a chance of fading. Either way, it seemed impossible to save the clothes. Cloud frowned, unhappy to find he would be throwing out some valuable items. It was unavoidable, but the last thing he wanted to do was catch hepatitis B. Or, as Reno would joke, **Aids**, which was highly unlikely.

Cloud flicked a comb through his hair a few times, ridding it of knots, then used a small plastic bag from under the sink to wrap the clothes, washing his hands thoroughly afterwards and carrying it as he left.

It was time to face the music.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, guys, this is turning out to be a very difficult chapter. Originally, it was supposed to be posted before the previous Vincent chapter, but it didn't want to come out, and even now it still doesn't. Which was why the previous chapter took so long, even though it was written fully at least two weeks before it was submitted. Reno, Seifer, Cloud and Leon are being very mean at the moment and I can't seem to pin their personalities right. So, as a warning to you all, this is only part one of the chapter Blonde, Redhead, Brunet. The rest of it will be under this chapter when I update it again, with another Vincent Past chapter. I've decided to alternate between Vincent's past and personality to the present day, because it's easier to write about Vincent than Cloud and Vincent. So please keep a look out, I apologize for the wait.**

**SPECIAL THANKS TO ANNA V. H. FOR HER CONTINUOUS REVIEWS AND BEING THE FIRST REVIEWER, AND AWESOME FOR ALSO BEING A REGULAR (REVIEWING MORE THAN ONCE).**

**I apologize to those who reviewed as anonymous as well, particularly 'awesome' (Ms. Stalker). I didn't read your review before I posted the last chapter, so I never got to respond. Since you're anonymous, I can't respond to you via PMs. I'm impressed that you can read with someone over your shoulder, though, and I greatly appreciate the support you have for this fic. School is just that boring, ne?**

**FFVII, thank you very much for your review, I don't think I mentioned you in the last posting either... but thanks anyway. Don't be afraid to review again, I keep writing for you guys!**

**And as for 'tsubasa'... (o_O) Yes, I did draw the fanart for Malady. I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for holding back the plot. Don't leak the plot twists to everyone, but you can tell small hints about Cloud and Axel for upcoming chapters. If you know them—and please don't hack my computer again.**

**I hope I got you all!**

**Some great reads? These two! (Actual novels, not fanfics, sorry, although Stranger Things and Darkening Abyss are quite good for this section)**

**THE GAME Teresa Toten**

**The Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy Douglas Adams**


	6. Unsatisfactory

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

**Warning: ****Extreme**** Language/Offensive Material **

* * *

**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Five**

**Unsatisfactory**

* * *

_A Man's Requirements_

"_...Thus, if though wilt prove me, dear,_

_Woman's love no fable,_

_I will love thee—half a year—_

_As a man is able..."_

_- Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

* * *

_Blood..._

_ Smoke..._

_ Sweat..._

_ Tears..._

_ A lingering hand, outstretched for his own, dripped trailing red rivers, reaching momentarily into the void space between them. There seemed to be a shocked revelation upon the face before him, as though stunned from the impact of the first bullet entering their frail body. The eyes were open floodgates, human liquid of sorrow joining the fluid of death in a descent towards barren earth. The scarlet easily dominated the clear substance, and it wasn't long before they looked as if crying blood instead of tears._

_ He would have liked to believe it was a painless, easy death. Fast, having no lingering effects of pain. Yet he could not deny the expression carved into his mind, far enough to scar even the deepest recesses of his conscious. The face of pure and utter agony as several more shots followed. Their body jerked and shuddered, catching each piece of metal at a heavy cost, a cost they were forced to bear. The hand lingered only a second longer until it was withdrawn to push backs the gags, hold back life and contain it, pathetically and yet admirably. Their body fell away as the bangs continued, insistent and cruel, compelling submission._

_ "V-Vi..."_

_ As he watched their death approach, his voice spilled out._

_ Even after their death, his mouth remained open._

_ Throughout the whole ordeal, Vincent never stopped screaming._

**

* * *

**

The Wyre Gate.

Forty years prior to Vincent's birth, exactly fifty-nine years ago, the previous mayor of Nibelheim proposed a new idea to the general public outside Barrenville, a suggestion hinted to him at the end of a gun held by some persuasive men. Although it was information released to the general community, none of the televised broadcast reached the dusty realm of the dying slums. Despite the shallow claim that all who opposed the proposal would be heard and considered, there was an underlying theme implying that all individuals critical of the latest, puzzling scheme announced by the Nibelheim leadership wouldn't be taken notice of, at least not in a positive light.

There was a slight escalation in "suicides" during that time. The homicide rate rose too at that time, encouraging speedier action on behalf of the mayor, quenching all protests.

The plan was to construct a tall, electrically guarded fence around the "infected" area, the "only" district in Nibelheim plagued by excessive drug abuse, death and sexual molestation at an extreme level. The barrier would stretch skyward, much too high for any jumper. Built ten kilometres in distance from the actual edge of the district itself, it would sufficiently isolate the region from the booming metropolis. It was the intended affect desired by the gang men that put a bullet in the mayor's head two months after his speech, when the fence was erect and switched on, encircling the expansive zone making up Barrenville.

Of course, this was _only_ for the _good_ of Nibelheim, securing civilians' _safety_ by closing off the more _dangerous criminals_ that were roaming rabid through empty alleys, unchecked as they searched for helpless prey. It would assist law enforcement as they cleaned up the streets, focussing felons in a designated portion of land, providing less room to run and hide. By starting on the outskirts and working their way inward, the police force would be able to purge the scum from their city, dividing and conquering all.

For those who questioned the ethics of such a concept, the government introduced the Clearance Passes. CPs, designed to help with regulation and transportation of the more _innocent _residents to and from Barrenville, only allowed those select few with _clean records_ to pass through guarded gates, as well as shipments of _inspected_ _supplies_, policing the flow of illegal materials. A CP list, apparently, was already under process. This impressive planning pacified all parties in opposition— that is, if they weren't sleeping with the fishes.

No one ever bothered to question why the problems had steadily gotten worse.

No one knew of the mobs taking over and enslaving thousands of people with substance, money and fear.

No one knew that inside the criss-crossed ropes of metal, several parties had declared themselves gods.

Vincent was familiar with the more political and "behind the scenes" history of the "Wyre Gate", having access to most classified documents of historical events, including private agreements, letters of blackmail and, mentors with personal experience and knowledge. Some powerful organizations banded together to influence the government, having the officials indirectly place Barrenville under their control to preen and prune into a flourishing weed, Barrenville producing vast profits with child labour and cheap thugs. Brothels were set up and trafficking was common in most homes. The individuals within were simple to manipulate and exploit, and it was a game for those now ruling.

The Aviso member had gained a CP upon recruitment, his age back then producing no complications even with the eighteen years age restriction, a new adaption to the CP eligibility requirements. It wasn't until recently that he had been using the privilege granted to him by Aviso. The desire had sprung up on him quite suddenly, but Vincent was certain it had been developing for some time, slowly encompassing his entire body in burning, violent need.

Insatiable lust cursed the blood-eyed man, a driven passion of needing to feel _something, anything_ springing to life and swelling, intensifying even with desperate attempts to quell the thirst.

Propaganda drilled the residents of Nibelheim to believe Barrenville was the one and only source of corruption within its limits. Yet Vincent didn't even have research to scrounge up proof of just how off this perception was. He would merely have to visit one of the fancy, blinking casinos in the bustling downtown and pick up a few entertainers for the night, in rooms adjusted to his fashion with advanced measures of security in place. It would not do for Aviso to lose their prize, so they willingly funded all of his exploits, even those of sexual nature.

Valentine knew there was no shortage of men and women willing to spread their legs for a bit of extra cash, but recently he found himself bored and displeased after a night of sex, even the wildest ones, where he would take more than one partner to bed and be none-too-gentle. Yet the need strengthened, unrelenting, seeming to grow after every single release.

The reason for his increasingly frequent escapades to the outside was a curiosity even to him; he did not know what was driving him. Vincent just presumed that he was tiring of the pale-faced but beautiful humans lined up for him, perhaps craving a fuller form or brighter eyes, traits uncommon in the dark and starving district. It did not seem to be true, as he was now seeking satisfaction basically every night and conducting his services during the day, and a sense of fear was beginning to worm its way inward. It was the looming thought that the young man was becoming too hasty in a pursuit of pleasure, that the desire was possibly driving him somewhat insane and towards a swift death. He could not afford distraction... temptation... and yet both overwhelmed his waking mind, chasing away the already elusive sleep. He wanted something, and yet feared that thing, _that entity, _that would have such power to disrupt his thoughts even through mere feeling, and create such longing within him.

There were suggestions as to why he was left so empty, after feeling so full for so long, from himself and those small few around him. Perhaps it was that his body had been lying all along, the emptiness only expanding until it could not deny its presence even when he pretended it had dispersed, or not existed in the first place.

The night of the discussion had brought up many theories...and yet, no solutions Vincent would put into action.

**

* * *

**

Cid frowned thoughtfully as Vincent explained his latest discovery—his implacable libido. He placed a piece of carrot that he was chopping in his mouth, chewing as he continued to cut. "So...you've been craving sex a lot?"

"Yes, unnaturally so. Recently, my last orgasms were not nearly as fulfilling as with past copulations and my climaxes were drawn out considerably," Vincent confirmed, not embarrassed by his straight-forward answers about his personal being. He pushed strands of hair that had slipped free of his braid behind his ear, dicing bell peppers expertly.

"Fuck, man, way too much info," Cid grumbled, eating another carrot. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're a man, dammit. You're going to have some damn urges. I mean, shit, sex drive occupies about half of our brains!" Cid swore under his breath as the knife slid crooked again while slicing. "Crap! Shera, where's the fucking knife sharpener?"

"Third drawer to your right," the slight brunette woman replied. She ducked under Cid's arm to reach another drawer, normally straight hair bouncing in newfound curls. "If the case is just a regular male desire, then shouldn't you be placated by this point, Vincent?"

"Precisely," Vincent agreed, sweeping the prepared vegetables into a bowl and grabbing a washcloth. "And I don't think it's something sudden, either. The feeling started out small, I remember being able to brush it off a few times. Before I could convince myself that I was content, but after coming back last Winter Break to Crescent High..." Vincent trailed off, brows furrowing slightly, the only evidence of his confusion.

"Wait a sec, what the Hell happened after you came back? Something change at that school of yours? New friend, pretty face, perhaps?" Cid questioned, interest piqued, passing the next vegetables to Shera as she cooked the stir-fry for their dinner.

"No, nothing is different there, as far as I know. It's just a subtle change has caused something to spark within me per say, and thus...these urges have emerged," Vincent stopped wiping the counter as he began to muse, thinking over everything critically. Was it possible that somebody had caught his eye, or acted in a peculiar way to generate enough interest for him to lust after them? No, he didn't feel that was right at all... after all, the emotion was nothing new, just surfacing.

"If I may be so bold," Shera began shyly, finished frying the food, smoothing the gored skirt of her emerald green dress, pulling at the cowl neck and three-quarter sleeves. She gave the raven-haired man a nervous look as she restarted, "If I may be as bold as to...um, propose a 'switching' of positions?"

Vincent regarded her calmly as Cid spluttered. "Are you fucking serious? As in... Vinnie bottoms for somebody else?" The blonde stared incredulously at Shera when she nodded timidly. "Fuck no! Vincent's a bisexual man, not some pansy bitch that takes it up the ass, like some shit-faced gay prick! Shiva, woman, where do you get these ideas?"

"Calm yourself, Highwind. It was a plausible suggestion." Vincent turned to her, catching her tearing eyes easily. "I don't submit to anyone, Shera, and I've no intention of trying it anytime soon. I don't know exactly what it is I want, but I'm certain that's not it."

Shera nodded slowly, understanding. "I think I'm going to get the dishes set now...," she murmured, pushing past Cid briskly. The fair-haired man winced, realizing that he had just, intentionally or not, offended the petite female, her coffee coloured hair swaying as she walked fast. As soon as she left the kitchen, Cid faced Vincent again.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Damn women are so hormonal. You finished?" Vincent gave a stiff nod, placing the damp cloth in the sink. "Let's go, then, Vinnie. Grab the tea, I'll get the rest."

Vincent swiftly placed the prepared tea cups on saucers and then onto the tray with the matching silver pot, creamer and sugar bowl. He followed Cid out, fully intending to continue the conversation over the meal. With the three of them settled and eating, the red-eyed teen spoke again.

"Is it possible that a rise in mako levels may have something to do with my problem?" Vincent inquired eyeing both of them. Shera, pointedly ignoring Cid, looked up from her meal contemplatively.

"For whatever reason, I'm not partial to that," Shera told him. "It doesn't seem realistic enough, and remember; it's been lurking beneath and intensifying. You definitely long for something from your partners that you are beginning to notice is missing. That's why I thought about...you playing 'meek'. But other than that..."

Cid butt in, "How 'bout faces? You want a certain kind of face or figure, maybe?" Shera seemed to agree, looking thoughtfully at Vincent.

"I already know what I desire in physical appearances. I've experimented enough to make an appropriate list of requirements."

"Smaller words, Vin, smaller words," Cid chastised, waving his fork. "You mind telling us about this 'list'?"

"I prefer slighter individuals, smaller and younger, the more virginal the better. Light skin, soft and fair, dark eyes, hair on the short side...and a pretty, innocent face, not overly seductive or too mature, but not babyish. Gender does not present an issue thus far..."

"You like virgins? Typical! The wolf wants the lamb!" Cid snorted, crossing his arms and ignoring his plate. "You know, these crappy feelings wouldn't be such a big fucking problem if you didn't have to go up town or could control them better. Every time you leave, you know you're putting yourself in bloody danger, right? Especially when you get smashed and hook up with random whores in a hotel, without proper **protocol***. You've done it four times already! Four fucking times! The next time it could be a random shitty spy who puts a bullet in your head!"

"Please, Cid," Shera placed a comforting hand on the blonde's arm. Cid just looked the other way, worked up by his ranting. Shera looked at Vincent carefully, more cautious than before. "Vincent... have you ever considered... settling down with a single partner?"

**

* * *

**

Maybe he was sick of just feeling with his body solely, in the physical sense, and now his heart was requiring its own fulfillment, that the person beneath him would lay there for more than just money. For more than fear, or even pleasure...

For...maybe...just perhaps... he wished for a companion to love?

Ridiculous. He had abandoned such a feeble emotion years ago. He may care deeply for those close to him, those precious few and one alone, but he would never possess the ability to actually reciprocate and bestow _love_. He didn't even know what it was, truly. He had never, honestly, felt it. His reply to this notion was so cool and precise it was a wonder he wasn't attacked for speaking so rudely and forwardly to Shera.

Cid sensed the severity of the situation though. He had reigned in his emotions to avoid confrontation, recognizing what Vincent failed to see and what the blonde refused to explain, because he didn't know how. Vincent was a mystery even to the brash man. Cid obviously agreed with her, but with such lacking information on Vincent, he couldn't explain why it would be true either. Shera had handled the response quite well anyhow, the tears held back from her young face.

Inside, Vincent sensed he knew what was generating this lust, this impossible yearning for an emotion he had encountered so long ago, yet on a more profound level. It brought with it certain memories, painful even though no harm inflicted him that day. So he buried them deep, deeper and deeper still, eradicating treacherous thoughts even as they emerged.

All this took place in his subconscious, leaving him ignorant to why, just _why_, he was finding such lewd activities now so...

...Unsatisfactory.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: I appreciate that this chapter may be a little confusing...make that a lot confusing. You have to know more about the background nature of Vincent to completely understand why he's beginning to feel urges, and why it's taken so long. Just because of the nature of this chapter, I'll give a summary-type explanation. **

**Forty years ago, the Wyre Gate was constructed around Barrenville to control the citizens for the gangs. CPs were created as a way to control them. Vincent is on the CP list, which gives him the ability to leave Barrenville, which he does most often for nights of pleasure. He's been leaving more and more because he isn't satisfied by Barrenville whores and hopes it's just a phase or a stage of boredom, that he wants prettier playthings. **

**However, that's not the case, and he knows he feels lonely and wants something more from his partners, but he doesn't know what that thing is. While discussing this problem with his friends, one of them suggests that he's looking for love, which he denies, because even she can't explain why he would want such a thing when he's never known it. Cid agrees with her, Vincent can tell, but even though he might know why Vincent may be feeling love, he can't exactly explain without knowing who Vincent's longing for and why, so he keeps quiet.**

**Vincent is slightly aware of the reason, but he's denying it so greatly that it can't rise to the surface for him to know.**

**This is a filler chapter while I work on the more important one, **_**Awakening**_**, originally part of **_**Blonde, Redhead, Brunet**_** but changed to an individual chapter after this one so I could explain about CPs and Vincent's erratic behaviour. **

**I'm concerned this sounds like a stalker-type story, where Vincent would become obsessed with Cloud and blah blah blah, but it's not. It's going to develop into a romance, and explain, eventually, why the two are so closely connected, and that they really do love each other. Obviously. Props go to Anna V. H. for figuring out about Cid (knew it was obvious, but thanks for the assurance, AVH)... although my plot twists seem to be easy to guess at the secret characters. Grr... smart people ruining my mystery!**


	7. Friends Are Rough Diamonds

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII/VIII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

* * *

**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Six**

**Friends Are Rough Diamonds**

* * *

_Mortal Combat_

_It is because you were my friend,_

_I fought with you as the devil fights._

_Whatever fortune God may send,_

_For once I set the world to rights._

_And that was when I thrust you down,_

_And stabbed you twice and twice again,_

_Because you dared take off your crown,_

_And be a man like other men._

_-Mary Coleridge_

**MeykoLove****;** Ignore religious references. Most poetry dating back to farther years will have mention of religion simply because of the times, as Christianity (hint; God) was the dominant faith for English poets.

* * *

_**"So, mind telling me your name?"**_

_ What's going on...Why are you alive again?_

_**"Give my name to a total stranger—does that sound like a smart idea to you?"**_

_ This isn't right. You should be dead. _

_**"Pff, what does it matter these days? People are killed for no apparent reason, regardless if the murderer was actually aware of their names or not. So there's no real harm in telling me who you are, is there?"**_

_Wait, I remember this day...but it was so long ago. One of the chance encounters I had with you. Could this be a dream? Why would I recall it now?_

_**"Actually, it depends more on who you are."**_

_Could this be the second chance I have waited so long for? Yet, that would be nothing short of a miracle, and it is ludicrous to even pose ideas of such thoughts. This seems to be more like a perverted nightmare, the world about to flip on its axis._

_ And I'm scared to see where it leads. Will it show how much I twisted your life, until it was resolved in an unjustifiably sick, bloody and painful way? Tearing away all opportunity you had of surmounting the toiling misery. Even with odds positioned forcefully against you, you would have overcome them I am sure— had I not stolen your chance. _

_**"Who **_**I **_**am? You mean you don't immediately recognize this handsome mug? Really? Ugh! I'm—!"**_

_ I don't want to see. I don't want to know how I stood for the devil's advocate, a grim reaper concealed in child's clothes as I slowly let you warm my heart, and I settled within yours, condemning you to death. _

_**"Well, I guess I could tell you my first name, just so long as you promise not to call me by it."**_

_ The terror is so bad I can't even enjoy the sight of your face reanimated in life, smiling that stupid grin and taking pleasure in even the littlest things. A dog barking happily. Children playing in the street. A butterfly escaping the web of a spider. Flowers breaking through snow in spring. A bird escaping its cage. Even under the grim cloak Barrenville had bestowed upon its people, you managed to make it bright again and envision freedom. You always had your glass half full. And I do miss you..._

_**"Uwah? Why? What's the point of telling me your name if I'm not even allowed to say it? Or is that just your redundant way of asking me to dub you a nickname? Or maybe it's a phase..."**_

_I wish I could enter here, knowing what I do now, and drag my younger self away. Or tell you to leave me alone, because you would have if I had ordered you to. You constantly told me how you never wanted to frighten me. How you wouldn't force anything onto me._

_**"I do not want the entire neighbourhood finding out where I live because you may coincidentally see me and scream it to the world, that's why."**_

_ Even if I never gave you my name, would that have helped? Would you and she still be living and breathing and basking in the light of life, you with your small family and me with my slighter one? Or would I have had to die in order for them to survive?_

_**"Oh, I guess that makes sense. I promise not to—so, who are you?"**_

_ She's gone. Along with you, your wife, even your son. I didn't even have the pleasure of meeting your spouse and boy. Yet...all of them... were wiped away... so that I could live._

_**"I'm Vincent."**_

_ And I can't even honour your name by living..._

_**"Ooh, so close to Vladmir!"**_

_...because more than anything I just want to be dead._

_**"And what's **_**that **_**supposed to mean?"**_

_ Am I truly so selfish and naive as to think I can join you so peacefully and easily?_

_**"Nothing, eh-hum(Edward)."**_

I thought it'd be obvious Valentine...

"_**..."**_

_...__**You**_have to_**suffer**__._

Now I hear the screaming...

Now I feel the tears...

Now I see the blood...

_**The nightmare has begun.**_

**

* * *

**

Initially, the resulting argument had not gone well. Neither party had been particularly tactful while voices climbed, and it was by fear of injuring each other and the loving bond that was usually in place (under normal circumstances) that the disagreement did not escalate to a more physical level. Cloud had not meant to be so defensive, but when Reno began lecturing his stressing mind snapped, and the hurtful words spewed from his mouth.

Reno managed to restrain himself fairly well. He had never raised a hand against Cloud, ever, and would never hurt him in any way. Yet Reno definitely wanted to restrain him, hold him down and explain exactly how dangerous circumstances could be. His fists constantly clenched and unclenched, shaking violently throughout the entire ordeal. The redhead was furious, and Cloud knew why, brewing a feeling of resentment at Reno's paternalistic attitude. Cloud did _not _want to be protected or smothered like a credulous, frail child. The fair-haired male especially did not want to be compared to somebody else as the guise of a second chance.

**

* * *

**

_"Do you have any idea what could have happened?" Reno demanded angrily, face twisted with fierce emotion. "He could have fucking killed you—or worse! Rape, mutilation, kidnapping—anything! His whole fucking—"_

_ "Reno, stop!" Cloud ordered daringly, stepping forward as the taller male stepped back. They were a breath away from each other, arguing in the kitchen while Seifer and Leon watched Vincent._

_ Reno's eyes grew wide with fury. "Don't tell me to stop! Gaia, shit... you...he could have been faking—could still be faking Cloud!" Reno gestured wildly towards the door. "He's Valentine! Vincent fucking Valentine! You can't—" Reno pointed a trembling finger at Cloud's chest, Cloud's blue eyes following its path to his body before the man pulled away to run a hand through his hair. "You can't even begin to imagine the things he's done," the redhead's voice lowered as Reno tried to breathe and quieten his thumping heart. "You can't fathom what people like him do. How many kids go...down here, in Barrenville...the gangs are gods here, Cloud. They are the ones with the catbird seat. They control everything. They pull crap like this all the time...," Reno tapered off, turning away from Cloud swiftly, rubbing his face, body running with tremors of aggravation. "Hell-Hell, I-I..."_

_ Cloud observed the scene carefully, calmer than his friend by nature. He approached Reno cautiously._

"_Reno," Cloud said softly, flinching inwardly when the man stiffened. The blonde reached hesitantly to place a hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn't shrug the limb off. "Reno, listen to me. I'm-I'm sorry, all right? I know it doesn't fix anything or solve any of your problems, but for what it's worth... I'm sorry," Cloud grasped Reno's shirtsleeve with his free hand, "I know I shouldn't have-well, done anything. I _should _have left him, should have actually sped up to get home faster, but-but I couldn't. I just...," a spiky blonde head came to lie against a broad back gently, "Reno I _couldn't _leave him there. I saw... when I saw him, I just..."_

_Cloud gripped his head in his hands, spinning away from Reno, frustrated. He couldn't piece together the complicated and erratic feelings that were emerging rapidly as he tried to justify his act of charity. The blue-eyed teen's ears were ringing with disputes and sympathies and degrading words flying about in the hollow of his skull. It was a challenge to focus with every part of him presenting a separate perspective on the scene, and Cloud just tried to clear his head in order to provide comfort for his elder friend._

_Attempting to force silence unto his consciousness was a poor choice. As Cloud thought of nothing, he realized he had nothing to say, and thus re-entered the chaos to form a response. The overwhelming rush from doing so was even more painful than standing in the midst of confusion, and Cloud stumbled backwards into a chair, legs giving out. High-strung emotions shattered barriers of his memories, bringing to light the real, raw reason why Cloud failed to leave the nineteen-year-old there, alone and possibly dying, in the cold cruel world._

_Reno had followed Cloud after he staggered away, and knelt before him as Cloud fisted his hair in his hands, elbows supporting his upper body upon his knees while his bright orbs wavered with pain. A gentle pressure on Cloud's wrist encouraged the boy to look up from his fragile sanctuary, eyes sorrow filled and brimming with hurt. "Reno, I saw me there. I saw somebody stripped and beaten by the madhouse we call real life, left alone with none to care. I saw the one separated from everybody, constantly isolated and never able to relate to any person because some wealthy, egotistical tycoon wants to suck every penny out of him by killing competition, for his own selfish Gaia-damned reasons. I saw the strongest man of Barrenville as a used, abused nineteen-year-old _boy _who will probably never get to experience life for himself because he had the same misfortune as the rest of us to be born in this Hellhole. And I thought," Cloud's azure orbs, once trained to the floor impassively, now stared to meet the redhead's, resolute, "Just how much I would have appreciated it if somebody was there when my dreamed nightmares realized themselves as actual nightmares. Somebody to hold back my hair as I puked from despair, somebody squeezing my hand to keep me sane and trying to comfort me through it all. I thought about how many people would have at least liked somebody to be with them while they died down here. And then I considered just how many people have been lost in Barrenville._

"_My mother taken by disease, father overcome by corruption. Possible siblings beaten to death in my mother's womb. Friends raped and murdered by friends. Both groups people whom I have known for years. A friend dead in a suicide bombing, a cousin swallowing an overdose of sleeping pills. A neighbour, a little girl of nine, burned alive by some sicko after his girlfriend, finding her instead. I-I remember we used to play together, at the playground near my house..." _The list stretches on, and these victims are only _my _friends and family. What about Reno's, Seifer's, Leon's? Men, who operate in the line of death, the world of money, sex and drugs, would know much more about relinquishing loved ones than I... _"And I wanted to stop that, just once. Save somebody, just-just once, "Cloud's head dropped and his shoulders slumped. Through long blonde locks, he had blue eyes fixed blankly on pale hands, open and face up in front of him. Their twitching surface seemed empty and forlorn, as if waiting for something to drop from the sky as an answer to his struggles. "I have the ability, right? Don't I have that option? Isn't that why I try so hard to learn? I longed to protect somebody, save them, Reno. I wanted to play hero. It never occurred to me that I was really just trying to save myself. Trying to keep another person alive so I could re-in act how her death should have happened. Pretending it made up for not being there."_

_

* * *

_

**It is the same story with you. You study me as if I am a fragile, glass doll, breakable; susceptible to the evil whims of those that haunts these streets. All in all, it really is true. I would crack in a second if I faced any closer deaths, if I were to lose you or any of the others. If any were to threaten to lock me away from the light, for life, I would despair. I have always been sensitive, more aware of the destruction around me. I suppress tears at the sight of a snapped rose or a starving child. Pity fills me when I see animals trapped in cages, bleeding as cheap metal bars slice the limbs that wiggle out, reaching for freedom. Or a couple fighting in the streets. **

**Yet I know that the microscopic lens you place me under, the chains you attempt to place round my body, are all the result of a deep-seated dread. I know you are as delicate as I am normally when it comes to me. You are precarious, as if on a shaking bridge, when I walk out the door, or stay out late like today. Your heart pounds at the sight of a cut on my face, or a bruise on my wrist, because you find memories resurfacing that you do not want to see. Do not want to remember. You lurk in the fear that events will play out exactly like back then, the same scenes with the same lines of "I'm fine", "Don't worry", with the same wincing blue eyes and brushing backs of light blonde hair. That I will end up dead one day, just like her.**

**

* * *

**

The fight ended there, as Reno decided to take a turn watching Vincent to cool off. A soft kiss pressed to his forehead, Reno rubbed his back soothingly even as his eyes held a bit of reproachfulness at Cloud's explanation. It did not, however, seem to be directed at Cloud, but rather something more distant, something condemnable. Cloud mused it might have to deal with the Planet and how it had dealt them this tormented fate. Reno hated to see any of his friends upset, and Cloud had been particularly devastated having to admit so much. It was a lot for Cloud to take in when he hadn't really understood any of it himself.

Leon and Seifer went to their apartment three doors down to pick up a few drinks, knowing Reno was in short supply and could use a couple beers. Cloud, proscribed from alcohol, composed himself by hiding away in Reno's room and reading through some worn textbooks, thankfully not bloodstained by Vincent.

Oddly enough, left alone, the tension in Cloud's body began to build. He may have convinced Reno to let his idiocy slide, but the fact of the matter was Cloud could not convince himself. He just knew his reasons were not good enough. He was a lost ball in high weeds, frantically searching for some way to end everything. Cloud had no idea where he stood, what he was doing or how to go about doing anything even if he came up with an idea.

Considering his past actions with a clear head, Cloud acknowledged the danger and complication behind the entire scenario. Vincent Valentine was a lackey, in a powerful, alien gang, who could easily exploit Cloud's naivety by murdering everyone in the apartment, or using one as advantage over the other, such as threatening Leon to control Seifer. Cloud had no doubt in his mind that the black-haired male would easily recognize the tall blonde, as Aviso ensured all of their members were familiar with every possible threat. Seifer's body remained undiscovered – it was enough cause for the paranoid group to be suspicious and teach his face to those they employed.

Vincent lived for his work. Lived for Aviso. So, what would he do?

**

* * *

**

'_I do not know what gave you the impression that a killer would stop killing—ever. Do I look like that kind of person? I have claimed many lives. Do you know why? I take pleasure in it. _Enjoy _it. To be able to decide the fate and judgement of somebody else—what intoxicating power to hold! To be able to see the person as they died—not the mask they form for society's sake, but their true, inner cowardice or apathy or pathetic nature. _

'_You can tell a lot about a person at face value. Maybe not entirely accurate, but you can gather from a boring person that they are either naturally like that, or pretending to be. They have either enormous talent or none at all. They are aware of the world, or incompetent to it. They maintain that constant composure, and the only way to determine the two is to place them under a stressful situation. Offer them death, and see what bargains ensue. I play with my prey, like a cat with a mouse—actually, the Devil with a soul. The demon talks, right? Provides a chance for salvation. That is what I do—give them a way out, if they can convince me. No one has ever managed, although the results were rather...interesting, per say. A woman sold her daughter, but giving up kids was common. Some men gave up empires, the best one had to be... one I cannot tell you. Too young, eh, Cloud?'_

'_You're disgusting. Get away from me—umpf! Ah, hah, urg, s-stop!'_

'_Not when I'm having fun. What would be the appropriate phrase here? "A slice off a cut loaf is never missed"?'_

'_You r-really are a lowlife, ar-aren't you? And I'm still a virgin—ack! And _plan _to stay that way.'_

'_...'_

'_Why do you care so much anyway?'_

'_Care? About what?'_

'_Me. With a killer. You're one too, I'm in no more danger with somebody unfamiliar than with you, right? There's not much harm in hanging around him, right?'_

'_How did you figure that out?'_

'_You killed your sister. And most of your family, including the extended ones. And yet here I am.'_

'_It was for money.'_

'_You kill for money _and_ pleasure—you just said so.'_

'_Yeah, but I only get pleasure out of taking pleasure in killing somebody if I am being paid to do it. Otherwise, there is no real fun. In addition, I will not kill you because you provide no cause and the sum presented would have to be suitable to the value I estimate you to be. In other words, a substantial amount of money. More than anyone would grant me for you, surely. _

'_How can that possibly make sense?'_

'_It does not need to. Every killer's logic has to be twisted in some way for him or her to do the deed. Even revenge is a form of tainted logic, the avenger working things in their favour.'_

'_That still doesn't answer my question. Oomph! What the fu—get OFF!'_

'_No, listen. You do not seem to understand, so I am helping you. Warning you. I kill, yes. I like doing it, yes. But, undeniably, no matter how odd or revolting or fanciful, I still have reasons. Every normal person, every a murderer, has them. For pleasure, yes. Under orders, yes. For profit, _yes. _These make up the majority of killers, whether believed insane or not, they still supply _reason.

'_Not _him_._

'He's_ not like that at all._

'He_ does not care._

'He_ does not _give a fuck_._

'_For reason, for cause, for _justification. _He was brought up that way. He solely exists _just _to kill. He does not even have a goal in mind. If he was told, by anyone, to shoot a child in its carriage, he would do it. It is a primal instinct within him. Listen to orders and _kill. _Whatever and whoever necessary. I am told he gets these urges._

'_Just to kill._

'_Just to murder._

'_Not for the adrenaline rush, bloodlust, a desire to witness another's pain. Just the act in itself. Killing._

'_To slay just for the act of it? It is impossible, it is not a concept you can really grasp. Just kill for the kill? That's what I deem as insanity. Surpassing all human understanding. That is when you utter maniac. Psycho._

'Monster_._

'_Make no mistake, Cloud. If you get too close, if he takes notice of you, he will destroy you. The people he is not commanded to kill, the ones he wants, are ripped apart by his bare hands. Almost as if there is an animal inside him._

'_Some form of _chaos_._

'_The world tries to ignore the unexplained, the abstract. You should too.'_

**

* * *

**

Chaos...

Some sort of disturbing entity lingered within Vincent, according to _that _man. A form of beast that spurred inhuman desires. The urge to kill.

That was according to him. Cloud never thought it accurate though—_that _supposition. It seemed a vague rumour. He might not have known Vincent, but he was positive he wasn't like _that. _

A maniac. A psycho. A _monster_.

Yet did he have a right to make his own hypothesis? To second guess based on his own fragile emotions? Indefinite components of the human mind, easily swayed?

Could he have truly brought home such a malevolent creature?

No, Reno had more contact with Aviso than _he _had. He would never allow Vincent inside if he were truly something so vicious and violent. True, Vincent could not be underestimated, but he was not something so...profound. So disconcerting...

...but...

...what if he had?

_...what if he was wrong?_

**

* * *

**

An hour later and lids fluttered open from an unexpected sleep. Cloud gazed around groggily, raising himself by his arms, to stare around the dark room. Constant tapping against the glass door alerted Cloud, along with a sudden flash and boom, and he slid off the bed, drawing back the curtain to see heavy rain. A muted clanging sound had his head snapping to the door, drinking in the screams and thumps. Moving sluggishly from sleep, Cloud padded lightly to the door and down the hall, head clearing as he walked.

Cloud stared a little nervously at the doorway of the kitchen, peering through the crack in the door, listening to the voices of Reno and Seifer speak at the dark wood table as Leon leaned against the fridge. He guessed the topic could quite possibly be him and his "friend", which made him anxious. He despised loud voices. They reminded him of earlier, more painful years.

Clearing his throat, Cloud sighed inwardly as he walked inside. He supposed a lecture would not be so terrible. It would show they cared about him, if they were worried for his well-being. Seifer and Leon gave Cloud the feeling of a caring parent (Leon) and a pushy elder brother (Seifer). This was why his biggest fear was disappointment; that they would look at him in disdain for making such poor decisions— bringing a practical stranger home.

Just as Cloud expected, the yelling stopped when he entered, but puzzlingly, not for the reasons he thought. There were no frowns showing troubled, perturbed minds or sudden questions flung his way, or even a hastily ended conversation. Merely curiosity for his well-being, and the ends of boisterous laughter.

Reno turned in his slightly standing position, concern flooding his face at the sight of the small blonde. He stood upright, pushing his chair back. "Hey, kiddo', you okay? We wake you up or somethin'? I know we're pretty loud—"

Cloud shook his head, calm disposition in place. "No, I'm fine," Cloud reassured him, feeling a familiar clenching at his heart. He hated already how he had caused them to panic over a single look in his direction. Each of them was wary, even Reno, though he had toned down considerably. His passive voice gave nothing away, though. "I woke up because of the storm."

"Oh, okay," Reno said, sitting back down. His cerulean orbs took in Cloud's body stance yet again, and Cloud inwardly flinched. The calculating eyes and pursued lips... Reno knew Cloud was edgy, seeing right through the composed front Cloud had in place. Two years, it seemed, had been more than enough time to figure him out. "Have a seat," the redhead gestured for Cloud to join them. Heeding his call, Cloud sat as casually as he habitually would, holding the seat edge gently with both hands between his legs, watching Reno just as intently as the redhead watched him. He registered Leon making to sit on Seifer's lap but otherwise kept his eyes on the cool blue next to him, thinking.

Their lives were all in conceivable jeopardy because of Cloud's selfish impulses. His mind railed against itself, tearing in two as arguments for different opinions arose, one supporting his charity and the other disgusted by his foolish endeavour. Cloud once again desired to be screamed at, yelled at, and punished for his idiocy, self-interest and over all waste of energy.

_ ...You pathetic slug! You filthy, revolting, useless maggot. You're no fucking son of mine! You're just a stupid piece of shit your bitch of a mother likes to ogle over! Figures, since you're both the fucking same! Where in Hell do you get the nerve to drag a damned stray into this godforsaken house? Mangy little rat..._

The blonde flinched internally at the memory, forcing it down along with the urge to vomit. He continued to sit as he beat back the suffocating, screeching images of his past, not noticing how the others took note of his long pause and glazed eyes. Worry sparked within all as they watched the turmoil brimming beneath gorgeous blue, the fact that Cloud was unresponsive to their stares making it worse.

The redhead spoke again, voice laced with concern. "Hey Blondie, how ya holding up there? Those crappy cells you call a brain dying on ya already?" Reno tried for light humour as he studied the young face before him. "I _told _you not to think, like, at all. Just like this bitch!" Reno jerked his thumb in Seifer's direction, wincing and scowling when the flaxen man easily snapped his jaw shut around the digit, releasing it fairly quickly after delivering damage.

"Ignore him, Princess. Just tell us what's wrong," Seifer said dully. "Obviously something's up, right?"

Barely any of Reno's speech actually reached Cloud's fogged mind, but the sound of the other blonde's voice was enough to disrupt his thoughts and bring him crashing back to the present. Of course, rationality and reason were the last elements to return to his scattered brain. So Cloud blurted out the last sentence wandering through his mind preceding his musings. "Why aren't you mad and upset with me dragging Vincent home?" Cloud demanded to the Almasy couple. His voice was soft and empty. Freezing once the words were out of his mouth, Cloud hastily tried to explain himself. "I-I mean, why are you so calm about this entire...so unaffected by everything? I just came home carrying an enemy, out cold, not only dangerous but powerful, and-and-and _you're _asking _me _if I was disturbed by your ranting?" The teen's fair hair drooped to cover his face as he arched his eyebrows uncharacteristically. "I don't get it—aren't you mad at me?"

"Yes and no," Seifer answered swiftly, cocky smile lingering, eyes understanding. "I was actually a bit surprised, to be honest. You usually don't wanna talk about stuff like this to me, Cloudy-boy." Seifer scratched his head and messed gold coloured strands. "I was thinking more along the lines of you barging in and telling us what happened and leaving it at that, not requesting an argument from us."

Cloud frowned. "I don't want to argue Seifer, just to understand. Vincent isn't some random friend I bring home drunk or high unannounced. He's actually a stran— a classmate," Cloud admitted nervously, watching the others faces. When there were no blatant looks of alarm, the spiky-haired male turned to Reno for elaboration.

"We kinda figured kiddo. Pretty-boy ain't got many friends, and none from a school. Anyone with him at Crescent are just bodyguards and 'gang-mates'; nobody knows who he talks to, Cloud, and you'd be on a hit list if you became too friendly. Tseng says Rhasphodos is on orders to keep Valentine alienated—good old piece of advice for ya, yo. Keep your trump cards hidden and up the sleeve, away from the rest. Keeps 'em in control, y'know? You stay alive and running longer."

Cloud started to speak again, questioning how this would affect Reno's status with his gang when he truly appreciated what the man had said. "Wait a minute—Tseng? As in—" Cloud gave Reno an unbelieving look. "As in your temporary—"

"Leader and reporting officer. Yeah yeah, Mr. Slanty-Eyes with the fancy-smancy titles," Reno waved his hand dismissively and rolled his eyes. "What's wrong with that?"

Pausing to sort through his thoughts, Seifer beat him to the punch before he could speak his question, accentuating his version with cruel words and insults to rile the feisty redhead. "Well, duh, shit-face. Cloud doesn't know about your fucking turd-faced group's alliance," Seifer said spitefully and nonchalantly, ignoring the murderous glare sent his way by Reno.

"Gee, thanks for bringing that to light, asshole," Reno said sarcastically, aiming a harsh kick at the taller man under the table.

Seifer merely moved his leg to avoid the hit, returning his attention to playing with Leon's hair.

"You're welcome, prick."

Both the blue-eyed teen and brown-haired man nearly rolled their eyes at the start of another pointless bout of insults between Reno and Seifer, sharing a glance and sigh instead. Cloud was sure he and Leon both would have chuckled had the conversation been less serious. Cloud cleared his throat and promptly asked, "So, Aviso and the Turks are in a truce?"

Reno responded after sticking his tongue out childishly to Seifer. "Pff, they've been in on forever now. Both keep reasonable terms with each other, and everything is fine as long as we stick to our own boundaries and hunting grounds, 'cept for certain circumstances. That's like when a target will run for another district and we'll give chase. But, yeah, they work together."

"Please tell me that means what I think it does," Cloud pleaded under his breath, as his thoughts spurred a possible solution shaking his head. "Does that mean you won't be punished for helping a rival because of Vincent?"

"Nope. No way! I mean, it'd be a bad idea to kill one of Aviso's most prized thugs and start a vicious gang war. Besides, the Turks would need to know of Vinnie's presence here in the first place. That'd be difficult to find out because my address is strictly confidential, and I'm not a potential traitor, so no spies are following me. Either one of us in this room," Reno made a circle with his finger, "Or Valentine himself would have to tip a member off."

"Oh," Cloud bit his lip. "Lucky coincidence," he murmured, processing the new information. The fact that Aviso and the Turks had formed a pact changed many things. For example, there was no worry of Reno having to kill Vincent, as was his common duty to the Turks; slaughter any enemy. This also applied to Vincent. The lives of his friends were safe for now. Everyone knew Vincent had a picture-perfect memory, and was drilled to remember the faces of adversaries and allies alike. Reno had a high place among the Turks, in the Special Ops force, and would be recognized.

The only real problem now was keeping him away from Seifer and Leon, just in case Vincent decided to expose or exploit them.

After that, Cloud had been allowed some time to sort through his thoughts again by preparing dinner with Seifer, realizing the married duet harboured no feelings of resentment toward him at all relieving Cloud greatly. Leon headed back to bed while Reno kept up an obdurate watch on Vincent. During the break, Cloud worked things to his advantage by asking his more pressing questions.

"Seifer, do you mind clearing some stuff up for me?" Cloud asked politely, glancing at the taller man out of the corner of his eye. Seifer was reading the label of a seasoning mixture whilst tapping his foot to the music blasting in his slim earphones, only one tucked into the alcove of his ear.

He turned at Cloud's voice, proffering his free ear with a head tilt. Seifer's eyes remained on the ingredients list as he responded, "Like what? Sexual education?" Cloud rolled his eyes at the blonde's crude yet nonchalant question. Seifer obviously knew he'd be the last person Cloud would turn to on the subject of intercourse and relationships, because within seconds of that hypothetical conversation, the azure-eyed boy would resemble a red, round vegetable.

"It's more serious and less personal, actually," Cloud replied dryly, checking the timer on the salmon he was preparing. Cloud looked down at his wristwatch, sliding over to the refrigerator fetching another varnish for his dish. "For me at least."

"Well, spit it out, Princess, before I wring it out of you," ordered the mako-eyed man, shrugging as he tipped the shaker over the saucepan. "Hate it when you and Lee drag things out."

Cloud scowled at the nickname. He hated the dubbings of cute, girly and immature names, such as "Princess" or "Chocobo", "Spiky", "Blondie", or "Kiddo". Despite being the youngest, he could easily pass for the most mature if not for his size and face. _Reno_ appeared _cocky_. _Leon_ appeared _cold_. _Seifer_ appeared _confident_. _Cloud _appeared _sweet. _It boosted Reno's confidence of Cloud surviving solitary substantially. About a negative iota. Cloud grounded out his question with a distasteful edge to show how much he appreciated the title "Princess", "Why exactly are both you and Leon back so early from Costa del Sol?"

Seifer snorted at his tone then abandoned his pan atop the stove to wipe his hands on a rag. "Reno's B-Day is coming up quite soon, like, next week. Since Lee and I were bored after the first week—although the sex was a great main attraction, Leon put out _a lot_—we decided to come back in time to celebrate."

Giving a blank look at the sex comment, Cloud cleaned his own hands, "You have anything planned this late? His birthday's on Saturday," Cloud crossed his arms and leaned against the counter for support. Though the recipe he was creating was short and fairly simple, it was still tiring considering he had pulled an all-nighter that day finishing a project, then pushed himself to the extreme in the weight room during gym and lunch, on top of carrying home a man nearly twice his mass. A breather would be blissful.

Seifer remained silent, obviously sans plans for the big day judging by the red creeping up his neckline. He cursed suddenly at the fiercely sputtering sauce, lowering down the temperature and fanning the air to prevent fire alarms detecting the steam. "Fucking stove! Damn! Heats up too fast! Shit!" The older man buried his face into the crook of his elbow as he laboured. Cloud laughed superiorly at him moving to poke him in the side.

"Shaddup, Blondie," Seifer glared as he fought back the smoke. "Or I'll dunk your head into the pan and see how much you laugh then. You up for sizzled bitch?"

Cloud chuckled and poked him again. Seifer jested often about tying him to the wall or beating him with an iron stick, just to prove a point. Seifer did not like to feel embarrassed, naturally proud, but he refrained from physical contact even after promising injury. His past was still murky and obscure to the sixteen-year-old, but Cloud guessed it was generally painful, what with the sizable percentage of mako coursing through his body. Seifer was afraid to hurt people, not being fully aware of his own strength. The only person he shared touches with customarily was Leon, the brunet capable and comfortable with him. Reno was iffy, because the fiery-haired man occasionally felt moody and snapped at a single tip. Cloud was usually out of bounds. He presented himself as too delicate and too young. The brazen blonde restricted himself to restraining the smaller blonde or tickling him, nothing forceful like punching or even tripping. Cloud subtly tried to encourage more contact to show how he would not break and the elder could act more naturally, but it sometimes ended badly. Such as the time Seifer pushed Cloud and accidentally sent him flying down the hill they were hiking. Cloud actually blamed himself on that one because of his insubstantial body weight, but the other man rejected it.

The no-contact rule did have its usefulness. Like now, where Cloud jabbed Seifer in the stomach. "Move over, let me save dinner," Cloud jibed, not worried about a physical retort, such as the pinch he would get from Reno or the manhandling by Leon. The taller one grumbled, walking away indignantly. Cloud added more herbs and olive oil to the cooking, tasting the spicy substance. Deeming it edible the aqua-eyed boy added cooked spaghetti to the mix, stirring lazily. "What were you and Reno doing before I came in, Seifer? You were down to your jeans...?"

"Meh, just finishing playing strip poker. Reno beat me again and I was leaving to grab some things to bet in a different game when you stumbled in the door." Seifer braced himself by his elbow on the cupboards, leaning in behind Cloud. "Aw, you little brat—little know it all brat! You did fix it! Wow."

"Wasn't that difficult, Seifer. Just required some form of a brain—" Seifer growled warningly—"And some cooking know-how. You can actually eat the pasta now, unlike the slop you were making."

"Don't push you luck."

Cloud stuck out his tongue, the slight pink muscle darting between his lips teasingly. "I'm not, so don't be a baby and be grateful I'm helping." Seifer returned the tongue with one of his own, then absently worked on curling a piece of Cloud's chocobo shaped hair.

"Y'know, I think there's a lot more to this Valentine guy then there appears." Cloud stiffened, orbs wide, Seifer failing to see the tension leaking into his petite form. "I mean, obviously Aviso would pump him full of mako. That's a given. It is the primary drug of the Underground in these parts. But Vinnie doesn't have the normal side-effects, see?" Cloud's eyes stretched further.

He had not anticipated that Seifer would be so observant.

Of course, he should have expected the man to appreciate some of the finer details involved in mako. After all, Seifer had more experience with human experimentation. It made it easier for Cloud, nonetheless. He would not have to worry about alarming Seifer or working up to the discussion now. "What do you mean?" Cloud voiced it as innocently as possible.

Seifer scratched the back of his head with his hand, sighing. "His eyes don't have a mako tinge. There's nothing at all. That's the obvious part, though. There's a whole bunch of other stuff that is totally screwed up about him."

Cloud prompted, "Such as...?"

"I've seen him more than once, and I forget very little of what I **see****. He's been involved with Aviso for a couple of years now, and I just noticed today that he's aging."

Blonde eyebrows arched unenthusiastically. "That's nothing surprising Seifer. Vincent's still a teenager, he has to grow." Cloud stirred several more times then snapped the heat off and shifted the spaghetti away.

"No, he shouldn't be. Those rich bastards at Aviso would have pumped Vinnie full of that shit once he signed up. Mako prohibits the aging process. It slows down deterioration on the inside and prevents the subject from growing old on the outside. Vincent's physical body has been altering based on age for all these years, and as far as I know, with mako that isn't possible. His height increases face angles out—in fact, if anything, it seems accelerated. He looks basically like a fully grown man in his late twenties when he's supposed to be younger than me."

Cloud agreed with that statement. At Crescent High Vincent had always managed to appear mature and guarded. His face held no pretence of youthful innocence that could be found on a teenager's face, even at the age of eighteen. Harsh reality couldn't possibly be the only attribute for the silent man's appearance. "That's true. He doesn't seem to have a set age, as in young or old, but he doesn't pass very well for a teenager, even one from the rougher rough side of Barrenville," Cloud tapped a digit against his chin thoughtfully, "But I'm certain he's eighteen. What other purpose would he have to attend school if not for education? He's not even a social type."

"Naw, you're right," Seifer nodded at him. "Leon pulled up his file a while back when we had a run in. He's definitely eighteen. The chemicals are just having odd reactions within his body. A sure weight fluctuation. You should not have been able to lift the guy, him being so tall and all. The drug boosts the density of bone mass, creating a heavier weight. Vinnie should have been too much for you to handle, so I decided to check his weight by lifting him," Seifer raised his hands defensively when Cloud's head shot around, alarmed, "Don't worry, I was very careful. No damage befell your perfect parcel. But he was a ton heavier. Literally, I struggled to raise him without my mako **reserves*****. That's a shock because you were able to, and the fact is, you're a heck of a lot scrawnier than me."

"So that means he gained more than a few pounds," Cloud concluded, shifting his weight to one foot and crossing his arms, curious, "In less than a few hours, he's put on over a hundred pounds, since you can handle a little over two hundred even if the mako isn't triggered."

"Damn straight. I don't work out for nothing, y'know, Princess," Seifer smirked smugly, flexing an arm. Then the man became serious again. "Maybe he was an _actual _subject, Cloud. Maybe they changed something else in his body... "

The blonde remained silent at Seifer's musings, the suggestion causing a sick feeling to grow in his chest and stir in his stomach as the other slouched away. The idea of some cynical and detached lunatic operating on Vincent's fair body was not impossible to picture, thus it was extremely disturbing. A recluse like Vincent would have to be traumatized to no end in order to develop such a bland and withdrawn personality. The Aviso member apparently knew too much of the world to risk a mortal weakness such as emotion. Cloud did not want to, but he pitied the raven-haired man. He couldn't fathom how difficult his life was. He knew enough about Vincent to understand the way the rest of his life was doomed to play out. It was a familiar tale in Barrenville and sadly all too common.

Vincent would remain alone. The difficulty of winning a true lover in Barrenville would increase astronomically with such a history and face. Finding a suitable partner was onerous enough, but what about _Vincent's_ character? What about the severe paranoia blanketing the man since his instigation to Aviso? Not to mention the constant isolation removing his feelings.

Cloud shook his head lightly to clear it of such thoughts. The story was tragic, true, but it was none of his concern, and therefore (Cloud cringed at the coldness of this thought) unimportant.

Sure, Cloud had one fantasized (appropriately) about Vincent Valentine. Everyone in the school had at one point or another, out of love or hate, or sometimes both. Cloud was open about his sexual orientation, and all his friends knew he was gay. It was not an abnormality in Barrenville anymore. Perhaps a decade ago he would be pummelled around every corner by homophobes, but today Cloud would not be a target. Mostly everyone was bisexual because you settled for what you could get. In the end, it was not exactly positive, him being accepted, because it heightened chances of attackers assaulting him.

Had Vincent ever proposed an intimate relationship to Cloud, two years ago, he was certain he _would_ have said _yes. _Unfortunately or fortunately, Cloud had abandoned the flock for an atypical reason, at least down here. He favoured focussing on his studies and friends, and having a boyfriend would conflict with those areas.

Besides, Vincent's inhospitable nature lacked a number of "suitable boyfriend" traits on Cloud's checklist, and even less on Reno's.

He amused himself mentally with the idea of bringing any guy home to meet Reno under romantic circumstances—it would be worse than the time Cloud stayed over at Axel's for a school project. He smiled at the thought of the man's false and crumbling smile as imaginary Cloud kissed his imaginary stud. The icing on the cake would be when the guy cupped Cloud's ass cheeks through his jeans.

That would be the point where the redhead's twitching eye exploded as he blew his top and threw the boyfriend out the window then dashed to get his car and run the man over a few times. The only excuse Reno would supply for his insane behaviour was "you were being violated" and "you were about to lose your virginity", and "the guy smoked weed around the corner anyway".

Seifer overheard the muffled snorts Cloud barely caught behind a shaking hand. He sat up from his slumped position at the table to raise a flaxen brow at the noises. "Are you choking?"

Cloud's hair bounced as he shook his head, snickering softly, "No, I was just thinking how Reno would react if I brought home a boyfriend and started making out like you and Leon," Cloud explained, nodding in approval as a grin spread over the blonde's face, though he seemed confused as to why he brought it up.

"Could you picture the look on his face if it was his boss or something?" Seifer suggested, chuckling. Seifer cleared his throat and put on an oblivious looking face, smiling stupidly. "Hey, Reno," Seifer imitated a very high voice, "This is, like, my new boyfriend, and he totally wanted to come have dinner. Isn't that right, Tsengy-poo?" Seifer practically screeched the last part, fluttering his eyes lids and making kissy faces, linking his fingers together over his heart. "You are just the most perfect guy ever! Come give me some love—OHM NOM NOM! Oh, oh, oh, yeah baby, right there, oh give it to me, _oh_! I'm your bitch honey!" Seifer started feeling up his neck and chest, the actions over exaggerated and lewd.

Cloud let the insults slide. Although he crinkled his nose at the idea of dating Tseng, the stuck up "corporate" directing Reno, Cloud thought the parody was funny, especially when Seifer threw Reno into the picture.

"_Cloud, what the FUCK do you think you're doing_?" the green-blue eyed man's voice was back to normal and incredulous, miming Reno, before switching back to Cloud, "Uh...Tseng? OH! Oh, shut up, betch, can't you see I am being fucked? Oh, _yes_!" Seifer stood up, placing a hand on his hip, the other poised and bent at his side, portraying a snobby version of Cloud as he tossed his short hair, "I'll, like, give you a blowjob later when Seifer and Leon go home, like I do every night when they're not around, 'kay baby?"

Cloud struggled to stop laughing, "Sh-Shut up! T-That's _so _not true!"

The elder male blew a raspberry, enjoying his dying audience. He put on a stern face for Reno. "_What, only a blowjob_? Oh, fine, screw me later if it makes you happy. I don't mind, I'm a total whore!" Seifer rolled his body, and Cloud sunk to the ground, leaning against the floor cupboards to stay up and holding his sides.

"G-Get lost, Seifer," Cloud gasped, wheezing.

"What, Tseng, you're spent already? Get lost, asshole, I'm not doing you anymore." Seifer slapped the air with a half squeal half grunt. "Reno, come here. I am _so_ horny I'll—"

"What are you two doing?"

Seifer spun around, still in sissy/slut Cloud mode from his brief skit, snapping his fingers, hand on hip, and said in the same voice, jerking his head back and forth, "What's that, bitchface?"

Cloud erupted in glee at the expressions on Leon and Reno's faces, standing in the doorway, stunned and bewildered at the same time.

**

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**Author's Note: No, I'm not dead. I'm exhausted and staring murderously at this chapter, but I'm still alive. Extreme apologies for taking so much time to update. And it's not even that good of a chapter—nor is it complete. The chapter has been halved yet again because I take forever to type and end up writing too much. So now I have to write another interval chapter. So I'll just discuss CPs and Cloud's pendant and mako to clear some things up for you all, okay? If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I know it's confusing at some points, but the great thing about Fanfiction is you can contact the author through PMs or review!**

***Cloud has panic attacks often if he lets his mind wander on a particular issue, mostly if he screws up and isn't punished, something he's used to. Why? Subscribe to the story and find out!* **

****Seifer sees Vincent while picking Cloud up from school, or in the Underground.****

*****Mako reacts to adrenaline, and accelerates the blood rate, body heat and strength of the person to a degree where it can be felt as soon as it's triggered.*****

**Thanks to all the favourites and subscriptions and reviews! They tickle my tummy with goodness! **


	8. Mako Was Pandora's Box

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

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**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Seven**

**Mako Was Pandora's Box**

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_MÄR – Märchen Awakens Romance Volume 10_

'_When the Chess rule the world, war and strife will end. Then no child will ever have to die again.'_

_-Ash_

—_Nobuyuki Anzai_

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Mako...

... Was originally introduced as a drug in Nibelheim.

Not just Barrenville. _Nibelheim_—the entire city once regulating and dealing the illegal, secret substance developed in the very slums where it now thrived. Now, mako was only used on... _lab rats_ under specific experimental conditions, with an outlined goal lacking a listed procedure. Humanitarian... Compassion... Commiseration... even preservation. None of these words would appear familiar to the bastards in charge of human experimentation. The textbook definitions they would regurgitate if classifying them were separate to the actual emotions. To postulate that they had such emotions was presumptuous and naive. They could calculate quantum physics and understand every aspect of the human biological make-up down to the last strand of deoxyribonucleic acid, yet they could not interpret a genuine laugh or a leaking tear beyond a psychological analysis.

Mako in reality was not the typical "drug" with proverbial side effects; getting "high" off the substance was much different that becoming intoxicated by crack, heroin and the likes. It did not make the abuser slow, dull or stupefied. There was no inhibition to the senses, creating over-sensitive areas that generate great pain or pleasure. No hallucinations were spurred by its presence in the blood—at least, not regularly. Mako was designed to be a modified, perfected serum of all strength enhancing drugs combined. A new version of steroids. A super-soldier serum.

The woman that unearthed its unique qualities, and founded it over all was named Lucrecia Crescent. Rumours spread of her insanity, after documentation of her research and development of the drug was seized and analysed, for she claimed that she saw the future through dreams and that a beautiful woman would send her signs of how to proceed. No doubt remained, when Crescent began sketching images of demonic persons and splashing red and amber into the eyes, that she was truly mad. The oddest thing had been that apart from the tantrums during sleep and the ranting in her notebook, the woman acted completely ordinary.

It was bluish-green in appearance, resembling a fruit-juice blend that was not quite mixed- as though a hint of azure had been added to calm the intensity of the chartreuse colour. Mako always glowed with a faint light of the same tone, making mako seem even brighter. Viscous in nature, sluggish yet liquid, holding plasma characteristics, it seemed unnatural and surreal in the world above its source. It continued to be pumped from the underground, all Lucrecia's desperate scribbles about its vicious influence on the world of man ignored. Aspersion was casted about her, and an Albatross strewn about her neck for revealing her findings.

It was too late.

The box was open.

Mako operated through the bloodstream as individual cells and once injected they could not be removed. The physical appearance of the subject did not alter drastically, depending on the body-type that is. Hints of muscle sprouted but were not overly blatant. Eyes shifted from their original to a spectrum of cerulean and rings of green. Sometimes they would shift back to their natural state, but there was always a constant hint of the colour surrounding the pupil, ready to expand when adrenaline triggered hormones in the mako cells. It enhanced all the senses, providing second-response reflexes from nerves in overdrive. Mako had a tendency to remove blemishes from the body, eradicating all scars, and leaving no traces after an injury. Sliced skin sew together like new, no evidence remaining to hint at a source of pain, which was constantly drowned out by shot nerves during combat.

The stable products of the mako experiments were extraordinary marble beauties, faces stretched and transformed slowly and infinitesimally to intensify and make features more appealing. The Planet itself was vast, gorgeous, a shining gem in the dismal universe. Adding that purity to a human blood stream would amplify their beauty too.

Of course, only specific genetic codes accepted mako, creating problems for the scientists that wished to explore and develop the substance, and for the dealers that sold it as a form of release, specially modified by those scientists to appeal to the sensory systems of the body, combined with forms of other drugs to heighten the rush. Limited amounts of volunteers were scrounged up, and the deformed bodies of those in prison and the asylum were useless. So they complained to superiors who in turn opened their playground, Barrenville, in amusement, exasperation and intrigue. Closely, the puppet masters watched what would result from impassioned, visionary women and men allotted so many new toys.

Greed, desperation, insanity and obsession plagued the doctors that threw themselves at any opportunity to learn more, discover more about the astounding life source, the pulse that fuelled life and warped it as well. To uncover a new fact or trait meant employment, a better salary, recognition and a grander lab. The dangling carrot enraged scientists as they scoured dull streets for subjects. Subjects, they called them. Victims, _they _called them.

Random kidnappings were the start. Mostly women, who could endure and resist the exhausts of experimentation more thus lasting longer, but it moved to men after women were diagnosed with a higher immunity. Many a curious doctor infused the distinct cells into the zygotes of young women, or into their reproductive organs (some men included here), and through various stages of pregnancy. The survival rate was rare, both mother and child winding up dead, or with severe issues. Eventually, it came down to the children.

Children injected with mako from the age of one to three died instantly. From four to six, mako caused dementia or a vegetated mind. At seven up, the desired effects ensued. Thousands were lost before the results were uncovered, and even then, some aspired to see if they could do things differently than others. Cure the dementia, save the infant and prevent death. The subject list changed.

A second layer joined the first. Within the box, they delved deeper.

With such a dingy neighbourhood, children were in constant supply. Overrun orphanages and homes despondently and discretely sold off the last innocents, and children vanished oft unnoticed in the middle of the night. Scientists took interest in those hospitalized, hypothesizing how mako would react to their conditions. Patients disappeared when the sun went down.

Screams filled the silence of the darkest parts. Sobs, shrieks, howls, voices breaking into sounds inhumane, sad tunes whistled and sung fading away. It was said that the bells on the clock tower stopped ringing due to sadism—a way to chase the last vestiges of hope from those imprisoned, severing their last ties to the outside world.

Eventually, people had enough. They revolted, banded together, locked up the children, hid them, protected them. The manipulative deranged were no match for shielding mothers and resolute fathers, or elder siblings with nothing to lose. Labs were flooded and demolished, half-finished creations destroyed, those lacking consciousness but bound to a body returned to grieving and horrified parents. Once done, they began to flee.

The public outcry made work strenuous for the philosophers, the self-proclaimed geniuses, the people of science, who turned once more to their masters, begging them to do something.

Those above thought about it. Mulled over the circumstances, took a step back to assess the situation. So far, the scientists' tactics had been fruitless, with caging small percentages allowing the rest of the people to come and free them. The loyalty between the "rebels" was too tight so bribery was a complete failure. Besides, the only option ever offered was freedom and the right to live, and neither interested the men. Freedom and life in Barrenville was a pathetic trade-off compared to a heroic death defending your people and values.

The only way to split them up...

...was to infiltrate with desires. Put true freedom on the table. Money, comfort, a real life... objects so longingly desired by the filth that dwelled in the filth.

It would not stop anyone from leaving, though.

The masters thought.

They needed to cut off their retreat.

A wall. A tall, monitored, menacing wall erected around the dingy populace, sealing the doomed inside, paid for by disinterested kin in Nibelheim, and out of their own pockets too.

The bars on a cage.

The Wyre Gate.

Prices hiked in the neighbourhood on all commodities, taxes rose, and security and circulation— drugs — increased. All to remind the poor souls of who owned them. CPs were inducted as incentive for the rebel leaders to let dates and names slip their cracked, bleeding lips, and to sate the activists outside.

Clearance Passes. Collected whenever an individual needed to pass through to the rest of the city, you could only buy your way onto the CP list if your salary included six digits. In the world of grandeur, they laughed at the irony of the list. Like a VIP list, because those were the only people who could afford a spot. You only sacrificed a little DNA for identification and money, which to them was pocket change. A simple check-in at the border patrol while crossing and both worlds were open.

The area was secure—there would be nobody unimportant leaving Barrenville.

The scientists were happy. They once again had plenty of subjects.

_Subjects they called them. Victims _they _called them._

**

* * *

**

_An opened box. An abandoned lid._

_The poison seeped out—spread. Corroded. Killed._

_Still they dug a deeper grave, enough for all the souls._

'**My name is Lucrecia Crescent.'**

'_In ten years...?'_

'_Red eyes.'_

'Like drops of scarlet unto a white flower.'

'And black leaves around the skin.'

'A young pale form drenched in blood.'

'_Who is that?'_

'_And who is she?'_

'**A Sister?'**

'_A sister, a lover, and a father.'_

'A fairy tale for the impious.'

'**How is it important?'**

'_How is it important to know the order in which they die?'_

'_I _want_ to die.'_

'_Suicide?'_

'_It's the father first, isn't it?'_

'_No, that can't be right.'_

'_Please no...'_

'The water is alive...'

'_...my fault. All of it. My fault...'_

'**Why must there be so much suffering?'**

'_Brown hair, blonde hair, red, silver, ebony black.'_

'_Blue pools, green gems, grey seas, lilac, crimson, gold, scars, tall figures, small ones.'_

'_Bare backs. Single wings... who is the angel and what is the demon?'_

'_Cursed people. That's what they are. They're going to lose...'_

'_They're going to be destroyed.'_

'_They're going to lose everything they live for—everything they love.'_

'Love...barren love.'

'_Shiva... Ifrit... Leviathan... Bahamut... Espers of life.'_

'**Chaos.'**

'_I'm not crazy.'_

'_I don't want to be here.'_

'_I have to help him.'_

'Stars dance on Twilight sky...'

'_Are you listening to me?'_

'_I'm not...'_

'**Alone. He'll be all alone.'**

'_Lucrecia...'_

'_I'M NOT CRAZY!'_

'_Please... I don't want... want to... to... hurt anymore.'_

'_WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME BE!'_

'_Take me away.'_

'_I want to die...'_

'Consuming the day like wood, night—'

'_...but not here.'_

'**Vincent?'**

'_Kill me.'_

**

* * *

**

Cruel laughter echoed louder in the dark.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: Whew, another chapter done. Not very good still, but it'll have to do. It was only a filler. I hope we all understand CPs now, though. It's a list you buy your way onto in order to leave Barrenville. You give a sample of your DNA so they can verify it—Leon and Seifer changed their names already so they won't be recognized while passing through. They've been dead for a couple of years, so most have forgotten about them. Seifer's old name was different. I don't think it's very important either way. Cloud's pendant should be in the next chapter... and that's all I can think of at the moment. You know the drill—any questions, just shoot. Hmm, I only got one review for the last chapter...I'd hold out for more but I don't update too often, so you all might not be able to tell. Lol. **

**Summer school sucks...urgh, you want my advice on presenting? Unless the teacher tells you that you will be receiving at least ten bonus marks, never volunteer to go first. Go second. Why? Because the first person makes all the mistakes that the teacher points out, and they lose the marks so the bonus points really are needed. My teacher explained exactly how to do the presentation the next week, after I presented and was humiliated after not knowing there was a second part, which she informed the class of that day. Seriously, it wasn't my fault that she never explained it, but she was looking at me as if I was the one that was crazy. I stood at the front having no idea what to say, improvised, and then she gave me examples as I returned to my seat. How nice of her... she's nice, but...**

**I lost at least 2/5 of the marks because of that. Sighs...**

**Review please! **


	9. Awakening

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII/VIII and Kingdom Hearts characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

**Author's Note: Cloud's height has been reduced to 5'3***

* * *

**Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**

**Chapter Eight**

**Awakening**

* * *

_Echo_

_...O dream how sweet, too sweet,_

_too bitter sweet,_

_Whose waking should have_

_been in Paradise,_

_Where souls brimful of love abide _

_and meet;_

_Where thirsting longing eyes_

_Watch the slow door_

_That opening, letting in, lets out no more._

—_Christina Rossetti _

* * *

_My dream?_

_My...dream..._

_Well, I don't know—what would I want from the world? _

_It'd have to be something interesting, right? Not something you could throw away easy, or forget about. It'd have to help a bunch of people too! Hmm..._

_Oh, I know!_

_How about to live in a world without cages? Where everyone can be free, and spread their wings!_

_..._

_Did... did you know we all have them? Wings, I mean. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel we all wear a pair. I feel it right... right here. Don't you?_

_Our wings...are our hopes. Our grandest desires realized. Our dreams... when we spread them, it means everything has come true. Everything we've wanted, we have. We've created._

_Heh... so, I guess my dream is a roundabout way of wishing for a world full of dreams. Which is sad, really, _**Vincent**_... because, in the end, you see..._

_Dreams never come true._

_Right?_

_It's like a rule. A heartbreaking, wretched rule. It has to be there, though, because if people made dreams come true, then something worse might happen. 'Cause everything has to be equal. So dreams, which are like a really, really, good amazing thing that would make a lot of people happy, would have to have something really horrid and terrifying to balance things out. So, nightmares._

_For every dream fulfilled, a nightmare will be inflicted._

_For every person that achieves hope, a person will fall to darkness._

_That's why dreams never come true. My dream will never come true. I wouldn't want somebody to be hurt so I could bring a few others pleasure. Think about it—what if, to reach my dream, I forced you into a nightmare? I could never do that._

_I'd rather live in a world without dreams, than that of one filled with nightmares._

_Than be your nightmare...Vi—_

**

* * *

**

V i n c e n t ?

**

* * *

**

**Something... new?**

**Different.**

**There's something different about that voice.**

**I swear I heard it before.**

**On another rainy day...**

**...not so long ago. **

**

* * *

**

_I open my eyes. Immediately I know. It's another dream. Another nightmare. I see you standing capriciously, as if wary on slight feet, rocking on your heels and toes. Garbed in typical clothes. A simple short trapeze dress. Candy-cane coloured socks. Coal black men's work boots. A trailing male over coat, the same colour as your dress and shoes._

_ The familiarity of the image, you standing amongst a silent crowd, fills me with devastating emotion, a powerful yearning. A needy, desperate urge to touch, cling, feel you, hold you tight and never let you go again._

_ I reach for you, and stumble, and next I know you are gathered in my arms, so young, so small, so fragile in my grown arms. The throng continues around us, walking in this nothing, doing nothing, nothing but faceless, empty shells._

_ Then suddenly, the plane tilts, and the world is shoved into brightness._

"_I'm so scared, Vincent, I don't know what to do. _

"_Please forgive me if what happens next is painful, because I think, I really do, that you'll be happier after this. It's for your own good. I can't be with you anymore, but I can help you. Come what may, I __**will **__be strong, if only for you. I can be your compass. Point you in the right direction._

"_Show you the first piece._

"_You're so close Vincent. Just trust me. Do you believe in trust anymore?_

"_You need to see him, Vincent._

"_You need to open your eyes._

"_Fight the darkness, Vincent. _

"_**Wake up.**_"

**

* * *

**

The strangest sensation Vincent experienced regularly was awakening. It was also one of the most vulnerable scenarios he could be placed in. Whenever Vincent tried to wake up, it took quite the amount of time to actually transition from the black abyss to awareness, and even when his eyes were open he still had trouble functioning completely. Normally, a few minutes would pass while his memory flooded back, explaining how he arrived in his immediate position or place. Therefore, he wasn't surprised in the least when he found himself in a profoundly alien environment, with no idea how or why he was there.

When memory failed to elaborate, though, suspicion and wariness set in.

As usual, he kept his eyes half-closed as he surveyed the sparse decor of the room he lay in. The walls were pallid, smoky grey wallpaper with strips of white. A sliding door closet, door ajar and innards dark, was to his right, and a scratched black secretarial desk lat in the corner. Pictures were mounted around interesting posters and quotes. He lay on a twin mattress with a box spring and noir bed frame, drawers resting underneath, sheets and comforters coloured warmer grey. His head rested on one of two white, soft pillows.

Oddly, there were no windows in the room.

Moving his body experimentally, Vincent found no restraints. He could move. Cautiously he sat up, noticing as he did that his chest was bare, and the material of his pants had changed. They were now a very peculiar kind of faux fur, with zebra stripes, and comfortable. Vincent saw much of his body had been cleaned, thought why that mattered...

_Hands connecting repetitively in bruising sequence. Bats and pry bars, metal objects beating him, unmannerly coating themselves in his own blood. Glass and hooting, macabre leers staring him down. Letting it all rain down..._

Ah, that's right. The belligerent men he had so kindly been acquainted with. After their efforts, he'd been lying in a pool of sludge, dead rain mixed with grime. No pain was apparent, just a sluggish feeling in his veins, one he coupled with tolling serious injury and when the mako in his body would flow in thick amounts to sew up wounds.

Guardedly the ebony-haired man stepped out of bed, mind still slow and confused. There was a strange presence in the air, a hauntingly familiar scent that inundated his systems and bludgeoned his head, screaming importance. Why he felt it was so symbolic, Vincent could only speculate. At the moment, the scent was stronger than the memory it connected to, and he was at a loss to recall it.

The aroma, however, was calming and relaxing, as well as appealing. The smell resembled spring lilacs and fresh grass, clean with a hint of sweetness.

Mako senses alerted, Vincent edged toward one of two sources, the closet. Flicking the switch, he saw neatly hung clothes on wire hangers, shelves built into either side with boxers and socks, and rows of books lining the overhanging shelf, in alphabetical order. The backs of those books were worn, obviously second-hand, but were well cared for in their recent home.

The clothes hanging up were curious. The pants, from jeans to cargo pants, were all large compared to the shirts, which were considerably smaller in width and length, although a few hooded and wool sweaters appeared big too. Everything had a gothic, punk style. Overall, the clothing didn't stand out, maintaining the norm Vincent saw at his own school. The owner was a teenager, or trying to blend in as one. He turned off the light the same way he had turned it on, with his wrist. It wouldn't be smart to leave fingerprints.

_A teenager has taken me home. _Vincent dragged a hand through silky locks. _Is it someone I know? Then why would they put such a heavy lock on the door..._

Light plunking came from beyond. The sound of leisure footsteps. Eyes widening Vincent tensed, spreading his feet smoothly. He listened intently, wondering if they knew he'd stirred. They were light, so probably quaint, and they were only one.

That was good.

He could handle one.

Metal screeched and slid in the locking mechanism. Crimson orbs narrowed as a final click was heard, and the wood swung inward.

In less than a second Vincent had them pinned against the door, both arms trapped and stretched above a blonde head. The height he held their wrists at proved too great, forcing them to tip toe.

With the slamming of the door came cries of alarm. Not from the slight one before him, the boy's mouth covered by Vincent's thin fingers, but from another party. Thumping and clambering sounded. Vincent cursed himself, wishing he'd been more discrete. He should have known there would be more men. Calmly, Vincent glared in the direction of the noise. Removing his hand from the boy's lips the dark-haired male smashed his elbow roughly at the gleaming lock, the metal caving and twisting. Feeling the deep grove, he approved. Given his precision, it would take time for any others to break the heavy _steel_ splintersnow securing the door.

A shiver reminded him of the blonde, and Vincent stared intently at his captive. Nervous sapphire and calculating ruby met in a silent deadlock. His gaze perturbed the boy, encouraging wriggling, yet Vincent could not force himself to look away, frowning at the sight. He tightened his hand in dominance and leaned closer.

He, the boy, was wearing a dress.

The corset was tight and intricately laced by deep maroon material. Ruffled skirts practically burst from its confines, bouncing with every movement and ending mid-thigh. A curly fold cheekily ran along the top of the constricting piece. Long arm warmers snugly hugged their resting place, flaring out to cover slight palms, lacy small puffs just below the shoulder.

Say for the bows around the waist, arms and neck everything was a light timid pink shade. The blonde actually looked _comely _in the outfit, even when frozen in fright. In fact, his awkwardly locked knees and arms trying to curl protectively in front of his body only served to make him moreappealing.

_A modest blonde generally accompanied by a spiky redhead and a suave teen with milky white hair. The one that strained to reach his locker shelf every morning, Vincent hearing him huff at the wall of lockers directly across. A quiet, diligent student who only answered questions when asked and always answered correctly._

Finding a name for the face, Vincent sharply twisted the smaller's wrists, incurring a gasp. He lowered his face to meet the questioning upraised one, even as a pounding reverberated through the door, moving only the blonde in its force. Noses skimming, Vincent let his perplexity shine through his voice, frowning faintly.

"Cloud?"

Stinging pain exploded in his mind. He flinched, eyebrows twitching unsteadily as his knees buckled. He sank lower and lower, grip loosening more and more, until he let go to steady himself, placing hands on either side of a fluffy blonde head. He found even breathing difficult, suddenly. His brain functioned torpidly, slowly, as if drugged. A burning sensation streaming through vessels, he comprehended the effects somewhat.

The mako in his veins was in overdrive, pumping highly stimulated concentrations throughout his bloodstream. Thickening the incarnadine liquid and dulling his nerves as it repaired and enhanced his cells. It bore the alikeness of the affects of a mako shot, triggering the drug already embedded into his body into the faster motion of healing and upping his strength.

Of course, Vincent would only take a shot in extreme cases of life or death because of the confusion that befell him. As well, an injection felt like a faint buzzing as oppose to the jarring sensation he now experienced. The only time Vincent had encountered such a response was after being healed with materia.

Even then, the effects were mild.

"_What did you do?_" Vincent hissed between clamped teeth, vision fuzzy. He gave Cloud an irate glare, as if blaming him. Cloud dug further back into the surface behind him, terrified by the madness and ferocity of red eyes.

Hurting red eyes.

Aching red eyes.

He groaned and collapsed on top of the prettified boy, barely registering the tiny arms looped beneath his own, keeping him up and grounded.

"I-I don't know—w-what do you mean?" Cloud susurrated, oh so softly, in his ear, his head supported by a bare shoulder. "W-I didn't do this...I didn't hurt you."

Vincent shuddered at the breath ghosting his skin, alien hairs tickling his neck. The hold on him strengthened, but the blue-eyed boy was crumpling. Every fibre was ablaze—with affliction, yes, but also a deeper, more vulgar feeling he suddenly wanted to ignore.

_Lust. _Lust was awakening within him, uncoiling in his stomach and slithering into his mind. At such a moment, it was uncalled for and unwanted. He growled at its purring in his ear, its delightful temptations. He reasoned, then, the mako in its restoration, had already commenced triggering his chakras, points of energy that were barriers to his power—a precaution on behalf of his masters. Due to his nature, during such strenuous healing, they would have to be pressed and released.

It had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the person carrying him, looking concerned. An uncommon expression in Vincent's world.

The taller of the two cringed, and knelt his head against pleasantly warm skin again. Warm and silky, soft for such harsh conditions. The softest wrappings he had felt on any person, in fact. Even the prestigious whores of the Pitt. "I know, Cloud," murmured Vincent jadedly. Cloud tensed in return, not expecting an answer. "You wouldn't."

Cloud inhaled sharply just as Vincent succumbed to the mako, sight unfocusing and refocusing like that of a camera lens. They tumbled to the floor, Vincent landing inelegantly on his side, skeleton twisted as the blonde fell on top, bodice pressing to the older teen's face. Untangling his arms, Cloud sat back on his legs, mouth open in shock.

"V-Vincent." A hand uncertainly reached for him, to brush back loose locks from an agonized face, Vincent clutching his chest and huffing on the floor. He could only focus on two clear, troubled cerulean orbs as he shook his head at emerging voices.

_Vincent_..._come and play with me!_

Cloud's hand stilled and he looked pained. "_Vincent—"_

Splintering wood. The door ripped clear of its hinges and the blonde steadied himself by dropping both hands between his knees. His head flew to the doorway just as tan arms wrapped around his own. Cloud clutched them as he was tugged away, eyes not leaving Vincent's own.

The view turned empty. There came a pressure at his neck, and Vincent's lashes draped to seal him in his drowning world.

**

* * *

**

_Pale blonde hair surrounding a kind face ends swaying in the light breeze._

_The feeling of being cradled as hands skimmed across his skin, searching for damage. Being hoisted onto a thin, strong back and carefully carried through shadowed streets. Pain enveloping and a comforting presence lightening the ache._

"_Are you okay?"_

"_Cloud...Cloud Strife."_

"_Let's make a promise!"_

"_I wanna' meet him!"_

"_Vincent...why do you always do that?"_

"_I should let you two meet sometime. You'd make great friends."_

"_Hey, we meet again!"_

"_Do I know you?"_

"_It's me, the great and magnificent—"_

"_It's my fault."_

"_I'm... giving it...all to you."_

"_Make me proud."_

"_Name's Cid. Highwind. You?"_

"_I-I'm... Sorry. I...guess I should have known...Never mind. My mistake. G-goodbye."_

"_Why did you have to do something so incredibly stupid? You know better!"_

"_I feel like I'm losing them."_

"_We're buds, ain't we? Or don't this prove it?"_

"_I HATE YOU!"_

"_So death is the solution to this nightmare."_

"_I'll take you with me!"_

"_This here is Shera."_

"_Don't beat yourself up so much."_

"_Wha-what was that for?"_

"_It's a bond between us."_

"_My name's Cissnei, buuuuuut, it's not actually my real name."_

"_There's only one thing I'll tell you to do."_

"_Scream. Let it all out."_

"_I'm so sorry."_

I'm so sorry**(1).**

**

* * *

**

Each person was in a various state of horror and shock at the event. Cloud had only gone to check up on Vincent, a supposedly simple, innocent act. Sensitive hearing picking up the movement of another, Seifer had shot up seconds later, but by then it was too late.

"Holy...Holy...Gaia," Reno exhaled, shoulders slumping as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "That was—just a little longer and maybe—aw, crap. What the fuck was he doing anyway? What did he want?"

Seifer bent to check Vincent's pulse, the strain the ordeal had caused evident by his twitchy movements and large eyes. "He's good. Still alive, as much as I want to snap his cord," Seifer looked at Leon inquiringly, the brunet examining Cloud thoroughly, "Did he get to do anything—?"

Leon shook his head as Cloud balanced himself, frowning at Reno's outstretched arm as he tried to block him. Cloud ducked underneath, going to Vincent's side. The man's breathing was harsh and shaky. The youngest felt the ebony-haired teen's forehead, pushing away black damp bangs. "He's sweating. Badly. I think he has a fever, but he's _freezing,_"Cloud swallowed. "I don't know what he wanted, but he wasn't totally aware—at least, I don't think so. He was acting funny, like he was distracted." _And not just because he was in pain. _He sat back, legs angled up in front of him. If Vincent were to open his eyes, he would be granted a nice view of the blonde's frilly boy-shorts.

"Yeah, well we can't wait around for him to wake up again. But the fact that he actually _woke up _though, yo... Valentine's supposed t' stay sleeping for the next twenty-four hours, without seeing anybody," Reno pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Gah!" The man shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, kicking the ground with a bare foot. "Dammit, guys, this is bad. Why did he wake up so soon after being healed?"

"It must have been because of the mako. Or at least, how much he has." Seifer nodded at Cloud's reasoning.

"That's probable, actually. The mako in _my_ body cleanses its systems much faster than a regular person after a materia cures it. With large injuries, a kind of mako withdrawal happens because the body uses up so much it has to regenerate. But in between the two stages, there's a waiting period, because the body can sometimes go off an adrenaline rush and last a few hours. Depending on the person, it takes some time for the two to happen." The blond scratched his cheek, perturbed by his own conclusion. "Still, Valentine should've still been dead to the world for the next while. Considering how badly he was roughed up n' all."

_Well, that doesn't help us still, _Leon remarked, fingers moving, _Since he healed himself so quickly and took such a long time to enter withdrawal, it can only mean he has good stamina. So he'll probably be up again within a few hours. _The tallest clicked his tongue.

"You're right. Now what?"

"We continue as planned," Reno said calmly, walking out the decimated door and raising an eyebrow at the mess, almost as if he had no idea how it happened. "Only we speed up our schedule." He snapped his fingers with a wink. "Got's' ta' call Cissy and tell her what's up."

Cloud tapped his curled fingers against his lips, a fleeting moment of indecisiveness overpowering him. The melancholy air of the man draped him even as he slept, drawing on Cloud's more benign personality. Pushing himself to his feet, the blonde stroked fingers through his hair, on the right side, as it was lengthier and easier to play with. "I guess it would be best to move him now, right?" The little one checked.

_Well, yes. Valentine's levels were at an all time high after your cure. Mako withdrawal scatters the mind and shuffles memories around, confusing dreams for actual events and often placing things together in random order to make new, false memories. These are all formed from past experiences mixed with whatever you see during your spouts of wakefulness. As a result, anything during that time you judge as unreliable and discard. _

Rolling his eyes, the taller blond mussed Leon's hair, the shorter drawing away gently.

"In normal speak, sweetie?"

"I get it," Cloud nodded to himself, clapping his hands once as his signature small smile lit his face. "He'll either think this was a dream, or forget about it completely."

_Exactly, _Leon confirmed, mouthing. _When he returns to reality, he'll be too shaken up to recall events clearly._ _Even Cloud understood that, Seifer. What do you have to say for yourself?_

"That I'm adorably incompetent?"

_You wish. More like a stupid asshole._

"That's not very nice, Leon. Ladies shouldn't swear."

Twitch. Twitch. _EXCUSE ME? LADY? And what are you, the epitome of manliness?_

Seifer scratched his head. "Uh—should I pretend I know what that means?"

_Hah, the epitome is a word for—_

Seifer smacked his lips against the brunets slyly, effectively shutting him up for a span of two seconds.

There was a pause.

Infuriated by the simple action, Leon leapt at his partner, barrelling his fists at a broad chest before Seifer finally intertwined his hands in chocolate hair for a messy, passionate kiss. A throaty moan followed a tumble and thunk, and Cloud squeaked when the Almasies dug their tongues into each other's throats, as if trying to choke each other with the pink muscle. Uncaring for virgin eyes or ears, or any form of propriety, the pair eagerly launched into intimacy.

Rolling his eyes, Cloud turned away, biting his lip at a half naked Vincent sprawled on the floor. His breathing had evened out, but he still looked pained by some mysterious anguish. Expression softening, Cloud leaned over him yet again, hesitating to touch him.

An odd thought that this closeness, this minute distance before him, would eagerly be trespassed by many to indulge in the treasure below. To plunder the rich cavern of Vincent's mouth was a desire held by numerous people in Barrenville, and the thought made Cloud nervous. A haunting familiarity rimmed him—Cloud could see it by the shape of Vincent's nose, the arching of his eyebrows. His classmate's features were sharper, paler, but had the same qualities as that of—

He locked his arms and leaned away, troubled. He'd never though teenage hormones would be a problem for him, but as ridiculous as it sounded, being next to Vincent made him very uncomfortable. In a sexual manner. It was odd, considering he'd never felt an attraction to anyone really, other than a certain exception. He blushed and smiled a little at the thought of telling any one of his friends Vincent Valentine had only been centimetres away and he hadn't wanted to kiss him—but could he be blamed? To take advantage of Vincent's temporary weakness would be more than a little sickening to the blonde.

Cloud shot the man a sympathetic look. Now, more than anything, the Aviso member resembled a defeated Nibel Wolf, like the ones they used in sporting events. He'd been tied to a stake to be tormented by vicious dogs and men, now exhausted and despondent, lying in wait for his fate. The idea seemed pathetic, and Cloud trembled, unnoticed by the kissing couple, as he remembered the animalistic look in Vincent's bloody orbs, gradually fading and realising itself as the wild look of a panicked animal. Vincent had _panicked._ It made him, in Cloud's opinion, more human than the embellished god he supposedly was.

Leon and Seifer, gathering some ounce of decorum, had stumbled away, a heated mess. They were likely continuing in the bathroom, or Reno's bedroom, though they really should have stayed instead of leaving the blonde and sable-locked teenager alone. Cloud wanted to huff 'good riddance', but after watching them felt too forlorn to form the words. While it was true Cloud shied from the market, it still stung to see couples walking in the streets, holding hands or linking arms, the only smiles in the abyss. Love. Such a tremulous, powerful word.

_You thought you found love once, didn't you? And look how that ended, _his inner voice mocked, its spite a vicious reminder of his pain. Cloud clutched his chest as his heart stuttered, its hastily sewn edges searing. _Even an end in flames can't describe that passionless tryst. More like a weak candlelight flickering to darkness, extinguished by wet fingers—maybe fingers soaked by salty tears._

Once upon a time, Cloud would have known what it was like to have it. The feeling that warmed him to his soles, after a brush passed over his nose and fingers stroked his cheeks, signs of endearment long forgotten. Since that spurning, he'd made a commitment to never hope for love again—but he didn't want his heart anymore. He wished to bestow it on someone else. His try at fixing it hadn't worked, and Cloud knew the only thing that would mend it would be the hands of another. Like one of those sappy emo-love icons found on key chains and diary covers, with some cute character holding the torn item out to the viewer—_I finally fixed it. Will you take it now?_

"But, he said he didn't want to go."

_Don't you dare make him out to be better than he was. He left you—abandoned you._

_Did he? _Cloud mused, petting his wrist, where he could just barely make out the branding. Harlequin wings, _he'd_ called them. _Or is that something I wish happened? Is that my way of blaming him?_

_I'm you, Cloud. If you don't know how could I?_

Pressing his weight unto his right arm, he aimlessly tugged the frilly band about his thigh. Cloud dimly remembered that _he _used to like teasing him too, buying him things that were effeminate or girly, like this dress Reno had forced onto him. There was no definite line dividing genders anymore—cross dressing was neither unique nor a fad. It just was. Cloud hated wearing the stuff because everyone stared much too intently, and he felt more like eye-candy than an actual person.

A sort of purr came from Vincent unexpectedly, and Cloud blinked in surprise. Crimson spread over his cheeks and he held them abashedly when he realized exactly what had caused that. Accidently, a ruffle of his skirt had been rubbing Vincent's nose. Guessing he should move Vincent before he accidentally woke him up too, entirely possible with his rotten luck, Cloud reached over his alabaster abdomen to pull in his arm and ready him for moving when Vincent's other arm wrapped around his lower thighs and knocked him off balance. Squeaking as he collided with Vincent, Cloud scrambled to get up—but Vincent was still repositioning. The other arm, the one Cloud had tried to grab, slid under his stomach, and Cloud froze as it linked about his lower waist.

_Flip. _Cloud muffled a screech behind his own hand at this point, as the _bastard _now laid his forehead against his groin, and then proceeded to nuzzle into a _very tender area._

Cloud didn't care at this point if Vincent was merely asleep. It _felt _like the man was violating him. What kind of perverted dream was Vincent having? _Molesting somebody? _He shot onto his stomach and kicked Vincent's clinging hands away, crawling to a safe distance and panting. Patting down his skirt nervously he seethed internally at Vincent, who remained slumbering, though considerably more at peace.

Reno's head poked abruptly into view of the doorway, talking on his cell phone, the man leaning back dangerously on one leg with the other raised, scrutinizing Cloud's flushed form and fake smile. The clunk of Vincent's head had alerted him. "...so I'm _p-urr-ty_ sure we can't get him out of here with a body bag...?" Raising an eyebrow the Turk straightened swiftly, spinning and walking back to the kitchen.

Slouching immediately, Cloud gave Vincent a sullen look. "I'm not that kind of person, y'know. I don't jump at the chance to get into anyone's pants, even if they're famous. Or, infamous," He shrugged a shoulder, "Either way, you get my drift. Don't be expecting something like that from me," Cloud joked quietly, grabbing Vincent round the middle and heaving him to the bed frame. "I'm too shy for something like that," Cloud smiled feebly as he rested his head momentarily on Vincent's shoulder, facing the dark wood, then pulling away to sit adjacent to him.

How did it feel to be Vincent Valentine, the man draped in misery, with no company to share it? How terrible it must be to never contend for love. To never kiss with lazy abandon a deeply cherished amour, to never share secret words or reckless ecstasy. To have no partner for your duet. To never reach the crescendo of passion while making love to one truly dear. "How about it, Vincent? Do you have some secret lover, or are you as doomed as I believe?"

Blue spheres squinted as if searching for a reply from the unresponsive man, Cloud holding his shoulders to inspect him. Sighing, the blonde laid him back gently. "But who am I to ask you? It's not like you'd tell. But I bet we're both the same. Without love. Loveless." He shook his head again, feeling hairs cling to the backboard by static. His smile was cheerless, yearning. "Why am I even talking to you? You're not even awake—ahh!" He gave a soft exclamation as cold skin touched him. Cloud's rescued senpai, nowhere near a friend, now bumped shoulders with the slighter. A light thump came from the raven-haired man's head landing to rest on the boy's own. "You really are out of it, huh? The Vincent I know hates being touched." Moon-coloured digits ran through a curtain of glossy black. _"If I were to love you, you wouldn't have to be scared anymore." _Velvety lips brushed Vincent's ear. Cloud arched his neck, breath tickling the other. It was a serene moment, a fragmented time of innocence and truth, where the world was a cheerful place, and people dared to dream. There was no sensuality behind Cloud's actions, simply a need to be honest. The tenderness of Cloud's voice, unbeknownst to him, permeated layers of fog to echo in the man's mind. _"You wouldn't have to run or hide from me. Because I'd love you, and love isn't conditional._

"_But we both come from different worlds with the same circumstances. Both of us want that, that sweet serenity, that idyllic bliss, but can't have it._

"_So sad, Vincent. Why can't you accept happiness? Why can't I find mine? Why can't the world just be simple..." _Closing his eyes, if only for a moment, Cloud relaxed, then hesitated glancing down. A memory touched him, and he wondered. Did he have a right? Did it matter?

Linking his fingers through Vincent's own just to see if they fit, two sets of slim limbs twined faultlessly. Blinking back a faint glistening, Cloud titled his mouth back up to bewitch the slumbering one's mind. _"Why can't we just love each other?"_

**

* * *

**

"_**Angels don't fall Cloud. They have wings."**_

"_**But if I'm an angel, doesn't that mean I fell at some point?"**_

"_**You were sad when you came to me, Cloud. You didn't want to fly. So I caught you."**_

"_**Why was I sad?"**_

"_**Because you were alone. And nobody, not even angels, wants that."**_

**

* * *

**

"_Are you listening Vincent? Do you remember my dream?"_

"_My childish wish...heh, so stupid now that I think about it. Materia..._

"_In fairy tales, materia is significant. In one story, a group of people called the Estrella, Cetra, whatever, used to think that each was a piece of the Planet. That each was a small part of Gaia's soul. That's because Gaia would immortalize her guardians,_ **the advocates for my life, who protected the Cosmos and me with it. As mortals, they expired, and to preserve their wisdom I cast their shadows into **_her blood_**.**

"_Okay, so let's go with the fairy tale spread. So, if each materia is part of the Planet, do you know what that means?_

"_You have a slice of Gaia in you, Vincent. Vinnie, you _**harbour a soul of divinity**_**. **__It makes you very, hyum, special._

"_...but you are always special to me. Do you know why you're like this? Trapped here? You've been confined. _**Once filled with a soul, a vessel cannot naturally accept another. You have too many entities,**_too much Planet in your blood. Hah_, **too much forced into a single container. You rejected the alien matter."**

"_Your body shut down. Your healer was too good, basically_, **so that the purity of their magick would have consumed your malignant one and destroyed you. You have been displaced for your own preservation, for the time being, so that your soul is not damaged. Be grateful."**

**

* * *

**

The problem arose while they were transferring Vincent.

The plan was straightforward. Reno and Seifer would head out to the Turk base of operations, a tower hidden amongst the junkyard. The Oni-Tower**(2)**. The building a soaring, reinforced pillar surrounded by dismal waste, Reno would be able to check Vincent's body in anonymously and have him returned to his rightful place. Back, unfortunately, in the palms of the Aviso. Leon and Cloud would stay here, protected by some Turk friends, just so they could be a little more secure if anything went wrong.

Cloud spotted it first, and yelled at the others to stop.

Seifer was ticked off by having to pause while carrying such a heavy load, while Reno and Leon gave puzzled grimaces at the weight. The blue-eyed boy shifted his body to lower the man to the ground, insisting his friends follow suit. Then Cloud revealed the source of his actions.

Since Valentine remained in only Seifer's pyjama pants, the spreading damage proclaimed itself for all to see. Cloud struggled to lift the assassin's swiftly decreasing weight, noticing abrasions on the ashen skin as he cradled the man's head. A glossy black curtain swathed over his shoulder as the svelte blonde let Vincent's skull fall forward, and he spread his legs to hold the tall man round his pectorals.

Scratchy, dry skin brushed against Cloud's supple fingertips. Purple-black blotches alerted the boy to the crisis. Vincent's muscles bulged as if inflamed, by injury or mako or maybe even both. Easing the unconscious man unto his side, alarm swelled at the shallow breathing and uncovered sight. The discolouration spread along broad shoulders, particularly dark in two adjacent dashes streaking down several inches, parallel to the spine. All around was tender, broken skin, as if something inside was contesting against the anatomy to burst out.

"Hot damn," Seifer stated bluntly.

"What do you think this is?" Reno questioned, brow crinkling. "What do you think happened?"

Cloud shrugged wearily. He had no idea how to deal with something so strange, with such a bizarre hindrance. "I don't know what this is. I've never seen it before."

_Well it's obvious none of us did it, _Leon pointed at the protruding masses. _Those look like two bones or such are popping out. None of us are skilled enough to have caused that. _

"Don't think anyone here would have done such a thing in the first place, yo."

In the end, they decided to heal him once again with materia, which for a few moments did nothing.

Vincent's eyes snapped open, pinpricks of slit black pupils in a storm of burning amber. Seifer yanked Cloud away by the arm immediately, half-dragging, half-carrying him to a place of safety. Leon had been thrust behind, blocked there by a muscled arm. Reno whipped out his pistol in seconds, barrel aimed at the thrashing man. Reno's eyes, Cloud noted apprehensively, were dead. Any person, any face could appear in front of the redhead in that moment and he would still pull the trigger if needed.

Watching Vincent's animalistic display, back arching inhumanely, Cloud prayed he didn't need to.

A fanged mouth flew wide the next instant, Seifer swearing and clamping Cloud's face into his side, covering his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leon protect his own ears. Reno only backed off slowly, still intent.

A blood-curdling shriek tore past the agonized man's bloodying lips, a stream of the liquid trailing down the side. The sound was beyond human, a weird sort of premonition, like a canary in a coalmine—death clung to it. A high-pitched whistling in company to wailing, like splitting wind only worse. Much, much worse. Reno, wearing earplugs, and Seifer in full head gear, didn't flinch. A whimpering, nearly lost in the noise, came from Leon, and Cloud felt like joining in. Even sheltered his head screamed.

Glass shattered and Vincent clawed at his head, movements like that of a snapped marionette still hung on strings. His body twisted unnaturally and sweat coated him. His hair began to shrivel and grey, then sprout rapidly and abnormally. Pieces disintegrated on the floor, and as Vincent's spine snapped again two spindly shapes were visible through the lumps on his back.

A dam toppled in his body, and blood gushed eagerly to paint the floor red. Cloud choked, head pounding in the resonating chaos. He sunk to the ground, fingers digging into his friend's pants. The others were beginning to mimic him, orbs twitching with the strength of the cry. Reno, scrambling to sling his rifle, a tranquilizer gun, from his shoulders fired just as the pitch climbed higher. Then he shot twice more to force silence.

It seemed a day late and dollar short type of action, as in too little, too late as the damage was already done to not only the victims, but also the inflictor. Silence enveloped them as a pitiable whine dissolved into quiet respiration.

He was transformed. Hair now short**(3)** and uneven in length, Vincent's body had mutated into something not quite human, but not far from it. His canine teeth protruded from his mouth, and rows of leathery feathers breeched the skin of his arms. Clawed black fingers covered in scales relaxed to reveal gouge marks on the floor. His ears had sprouted into fin-like appendages, and colossal, pitch coloured bat wings lay damp in his own blood.

So, so much blood. Cloud quaked at the sight of scarlet pooling on the floor, staining it. It was filled with flesh and torn skin, trailing back to the base of the alary man. Reno lightly slapped his face, trying to draw his eyes away from the substance.

"Cloud? Cloud! Look at me, chickie. _Please._" The pleading undertone finally caught Cloud's attention, and he found his hearing was numbed, inadequate, as Reno's voice left him but the man's lips continued to move. His body felt sore and a metallic essence coated his mouth. He saw vessels highlighted in Reno's neck, bruises fast-forming, and cocked his head weakly. "...but his pupils are dilated, Seifer, shit."

"Lee's too. Sound popped some of your veins too. In your neck, mostly," Seifer buried his spouse's head into the crook of his neck, rocking soothingly and whispering words of endearment. He paused, glaring maliciously at Vincent. "Bastard must have done something to their hearing, with the noise."

"Fucker," Reno growled. Cloud wanted to protest at the way they placed the blame on Vincent, but could not find the words. Reno wiped a stream of ruby from the blonde's strawberry lips with his sleeve. "Cloud's bleeding from the mouth. Must have ruptured something in his stomach too." The Turk placed his hands over Cloud's chest, feeling the pendant beneath the fabric of his coat. Green light spilled and entered Cloud's torso, filling him with warmth as materia animated itself in whirls of emerald.

Funny that he only just realized he was cold.

A sea green sphere leapt through the air, landing neatly in Seifer's adroit hand as he cast Cure on Leon too. Unstable, the blonde stared dazedly at Vincent.

"Reno," Cloud's voice was wispy and hurt, a voice of pain and discomfort. The blood hadn't stopped dribbling, and he swore he could feel the cherry liquid bubbling in his stomach. Attempting to swallow the urge to vomit, Cloud hugged himself. Reno ran the pads of his fingers along his cheek, cooing for certain, but Cloud just couldn't make sense of it. The cocky homme removed the jacket of his black suit, standing from a crouch to toss it in to the life puddle on the carpet.

"Don't think the materia did crap, yo," Messing up flaming hair, Reno scowled, "Nothing important anyways."

"Lee's bleeding from the eye," Seifer informed quietly, tightening his hold. "A vein popped there—a big one, in the right. He won't be able to see. I'll haveta get a higher materia..."

Nothing could ever go easily, or according to plan. There always had to be a devastating hitch, a terrifying consequence for trying to be humane. Life's cruelty was impossible to surmount. Decay clung to everything in Barrenville—to the buildings, to the people, to emotion. Happiness had fizzled, kindness discouraged. In this dreadful place, the sinful would be rewarded and virtuous punished, in a callous reverse to an ideal world. Cloud felt like crying, but comprehending how useless it was, didn't waste his energy. He shivered in pain, instinctively knowing that Vincent`s was far worse. He didn`t understand why he cared anymore. the man had extended beyond a source of stress to a source of trouble. His world-weary air drained all that approached, like a screen, a barrier blocking him from reality.

When Reno came back to tend to him Cloud finally collapsed into his arms, half-heartedly clenching his white dress shirt.

_There are two shadows there, Reno, look..._

**

* * *

**

The blonde looked at him, a nasty blemish shaping on his cheek. Beautiful azure eyes, resplendent, animate, met his gaze, but he knew they could not see him. Not truly—he was a ghost for now. The blood spilling from coral lips was like a beckoning intoxicant, and he craved to taste it, to relish its essence. He had been so close—so very close to taking control. Vincent didn't even appreciate what had been happening, in such a deep sleep. _She_ did, though, and she'd blocked him, with the help of Mother. She wouldn't be able to tell, so hopefully his host would remain ignorant while he gathered strength to have another go. Sneering he licked blood from his claws, then dexterously knelt before the boy, preparing his tongue to harvest a taste for his own. Cloud, _such a fabulous name, _was too helpless and shaky to even notice, although he made a noise of discontent as his skin purpled beneath Chaos' tongue, and veins were drawn to the surface. He coughed more blood, which he eagerly lapped, then considering the boy from a short distance.

It was like looking into a mirror, one of the ones in those horror funhouses that blond pilot loved to bring the she-man. Instead of seeing yourself, a monstrous, revolting, ugly creature leered back. Supposedly, if you were yang, that was your yin. He chuckled maliciously to himself, sucking the red from his lips, yearning for more.

If a monster looked into one, wouldn't an angel stare back?

**

* * *

**

**BUG'S EYE(4)**

**8-** "Moshi, moshi, Ren-chan! Eh, why do we look so down?"

**7-** "I'll explain later. Is Cissnei ready upstairs?"

**8-** "She's got a transport waiting on the roof, with decoys just in case. She set a few pick-ups to be staged elsewhere too."

**7-** "Great, yo. Now open the bag."

**8-** "I thought you said you couldn't use a—HOLY SHIT!"

**7-** "Wanna' tell the neighbours upstairs? I just got the ones round here quiet after all his screaming."

**8-** "...So that's why we're incognito. I thought you were just playing—but this? This is serious."

**7-** "Fuck yeah, man. Y'know how hard it was to rig this thing to not stop? Had ta' play with the elevator circuitry forever! And there was a bit of an incident afterwards too, so Seifer won't be coming. He's... working on his materia skills."

**8-** "Hah, Hito's gonna be pissed about all this."

**7-** "Eh, Tseng's always pissed. He needs a good lay to get that stick out of his ass."

**

* * *

**

_Negative. Shichi and Hachi are still in possession of Target 04. What's your status, Tsúyosa?_

_Negative on 03, the same. He gave me the slip just now. Stay your position, Oboreru. I'm coming to help. They may yet provide an opening._

**

* * *

**

**FISH EYE**

**4-** "A body bag? Seriously Shichi, could you get any more conspicuous?"

**7-** "Uh, no? Trust me; the bag's better than me carrying him without it."

**8-** "Alright, kids, let's get inside the transport before we start the name-calling and flirting."

**4-** "Shut up Hachi."

**7-** "Yeah, yo. Shut up."

**4-** "Don't agree with me, Shichi, it makes me feel weird. You'd better have taken good care of him too, or else."

**7-** "Or else what?"

**8-** _"Close the doors!"_

**4-** "Or else I'll kick your ass."

**7-** "Pff, you wish."

...

**4-** "Oh my Gaia—Reno, what did you do?"

**7-** "That's _Shichi_ to you, Shi! And I didn't do shit. He did that on his own—healed him with materia and everythin' and ka-_pow_, instant monster."

**4-** "Don't call him that!"

**8-** "Uhh, I know I'm just the new guy n'all, but seriously kiddies, calm down. We're professionals, right?"

**7-** _"Man, you're starting to sound like your tutor."_

**8-** _"I'll have you know that Ms. Chiyoko is very—!"_

**4-** "You're right, Hachi. I'm sorry, I'm just a little stressed. Uh, _Cerberus_ is very important to me. We've been together for a long time, and I would hate to lose him."

**

* * *

**

**CAT'S EYE**

**7-** "So how long do I gotta' stay?"

**4-** "Worried about your little boy-toy?"

**7-** "It's not like that with me and Chocobo-Head."

**4-** "Uh-huh. We'll be splitting up at Oni-Tower. You can go back to your boyfriend then."

**7-** "We're not like that, I'm telling you."

**4-** "So you've never kissed, groped or sexed up your roommate."

**7-** "Nope."

**4-** "And you've never wanted to?"

**7-** "Why do you sound so sceptic? Don't trust me ta keep my pants on?"

**4-** "Nope. You're too volatile. Hmm, your roommate is a little curious to me."

**7-** "Eh, how so?"

**4-** "Eh heh heh, that's a secret!"

**7-** "Don't wink like that yo, it's just creepy. I don't want no cougar hittin' on me or nuthin'. I'm not interested."

**4-** "You are an extremely horrible person."

**7-** "And you're a pussy."

**4-** "Want me to backhand you?"

**7-** "I dare ya'."

**4-** "Ew, and actually touch you? No way! Eek, Reno, let me go!"

**7-** "Bwah ha ha ha! Never, you've annoyed me. Lucky you're not wearing a skirt or I'd see your panties!"

**4-** "Lecher, put me down!"

**

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**

**BIRD'S EYE**

**7-** "Well, this is me, yo."

**4-** "I guess so!"

**8-** "Why are we splitting up again?"

**4/7-** "To confuse enemies." / "Because Hito's paranoid."

**8-** "Is it possible to have OCD about protocol? Cuz I swear Number One has it."

**7-** "I think OCD is possible for just about anything, kiddo. So, where am I headed?"

**4-** "Well, Hachi's going Uptown on this transport. I'm heading Underground to reach the Diamond Pit. Hito's arranged an exchange and wants me there. Since you evoked the Code, you won't be involved in any of this, Shichi, so you'll be taken home by Katsuo."

**8-** "Damn, all this for one guy? Didn't know Cerberus was this popular."

**7-** "I wanna' know how it happened in the first place if he's so important. Doesn't he have bodyguards? Special magick barriers? How could he be beaten by some random ruffians on the street?"

**4-** "Because—never mind. Don't dwell on it further. Either of you. For some things, it's best not to know."

**

* * *

**

**MAN'S EYE**

**?- **"Cissnei!"

**4-** "Highwind."

**?- **"What da' fuck ya' bowing for?"

4- "Protocol and decorum demands I act as respectfully and politely as possible to Allies on duty."

**?-** "Wutever. Where's Vincent?"

**4-** "He is waiting in the land rover. Tseng suggests you retrieve him quickly and leave. He suspects we may have been followed."

**?- **"The prick always says that. Hey, Vinnie, ya' wanna get yer' ass moving or do I haveta make you? Ya looked more fucked up than usual. Is it the new moon already?"

4- "Vincent is temporarily unresponsive due to fluctuating mako levels, due to his recent transformation, coupled with a double dosing of Cure from materia—"

**?- **"Who da' fuck did tha'?"

**4-** "That's classified."

**?- **"Damn Turks, always saving your own asses. Spare me your melodramatic robot bullshit and let me get this bitch to my bike."

**4-** "The Aviso are allowing you to transport Cerberus via land mode?"

**?- **"Like I give a fuck wut' they say anyways, but it's an Aviator model—with wings. Dat' okay with you, sister?"

**4-** "I don't make the decisions, Highwind."

**?-** "They all say that."

**4-** "Will you be okay carrying him?"

**?-** "His body reacts naturally to my touch. The creep. He's rather light. Don't worry 'bout us. Shera's here, and her aim ain't too bad, but don't tell her I said even _that_. And HQ assigned me a special Nobody. An odd little fucker, but he's pretty bad-ass in a fight."

**4-** "I'm glad to hear. Take care, Highwind."

**?-** "See ya, Cissy."

...

**4-** "Goodbye, Vincent. I hope you'll be alright. See you soon, okay?"

_TARGET ACQUIRED_

_FSSSH!_

**MP9-** "SHI!"

**4-** "Get back to the—ack!"

_FSSSH! KRAACK!_

**MP1-** "The ceiling's coming down!"

**4-** "Ugh, Tseng, watch out!"

**MP4-** "Look out!"

**MP2**- "GET DOWN!"

_KREEEEK!_

**1-** "Goodbye, little spider."

_BANG!_

_SYSTEM FAILED SYSTEM FAILEDSYSTEM FAAIUULLEDDD..._

_...SSSSSHHHT..._

**

* * *

**

"_Did you manage to intercept them?"_

"_No. The Nobody caught on to somebody following and I had to fall back."_

"_Hah, (huff). The girl, the Turk, she turned last second and spotted me. I missed her heart. Turns out, (huff), it was a trap. I nearly brought the ceiling down but Hito came out and got my shoulder. And my leg and—ah, arm. I've got it covered—I'm injecting a serum now."_

"_This is bad, Oboreru. _He_ won't be pleased."_

"_Maybe, maybe not."_

"_Hmm?"_

"_I think he'll be happier if I tell him I found another little mouse for his game. Target 01."_

"_01?"_

"_Yes, well, we'll have to investigate, just to make sure, so shh, don't tell just yet."_

"_We'll still be punished."_

"_But think of the reward if I'm right!"_

"_Target 01, ey?"_

"_Yup. Target 01. Kuruado Sturaifo."_

**

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**

**Author's Note: Five months is way too long. Sorry, no more long leaves, I hope.**

**So, I noticed I've been getting alerts and favourites, which makes me really, really happy! Thank you all! I've been going over the past few chapters and noticing a lot of loopholes in the plot (considering future events). Plus, overall some really low quality description. I didn't change much but a few errors, so that's why I reposted them.**

**Cloud's dress! Myah! I think if Cloud were a girl he'd look exactly like Chii from Chobits (CLAMP), only with blue eyes. When I think of a younger Cloud, like he is here, I imagine him with her face and body (minus the boobs and with slighter hips) but with Cloud hair. So I borrowed one of her dresses. If you Google Chii you'll probably find it. She's holding a bouquet and has a trail. Cloud's probably gonna wear a lot of her stuff because I find it easier to describe something when I have a picture of it. **

***Cloud's height has been reduced because of developed plot, and an idea I've been developing for some time. Now he's really short!***

**(1) I'm so sorry. Yeah, I just wanna point out, this is a highly relative line to my story. I know it's Lucrecia's tagline in Dirge of Cerberus, but it has more to do with Cloud and Vincent in CDADDIR.**

**(2) Oni is a Japanese mythical creature, usually a brute with horns. In CDADDIR, I believe they would bear more resemblance to the Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (by CLAMP) version, creatures that appear more as demonic shadows.**

**(3) Vinnie's hair in DoC as a Turk. Don't worry, it'll come back—eventually! **

**(4) In the manga Clover (by CLAMP), there's an interesting sequence involving a series of eyes where a character, Ora, is constantly seen and being watched. Different methods of spyware are being used to track her, and eventually, when the eye becomes clear enough and is a Man's eye, she is shot and killed. I decided to borrow that idea.**


	10. Among Culpable and Punished

**Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and Kingdom Hearts characters and names are the property of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.**

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**Thanks to wolfissac for betaing this chapter! Lots of love and kisses!**

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******Come Death and Destruction, Dearest I Remain**  


**Chapter Nine**

**Among Culpable and Punished**

**

* * *

**

_xxxHOLiC: ANOTHERHOLiC: Landolt-Ring Aerosol_

_He did not understand her._

_He even found her unsettling._

_Self-destruction, self-destructive tendencies, self-inflicted injuries._

_For no reason at all—or simply to violate taboos._

"_She can't... accept happiness."_

_Was that feeling even human?_

_-Kimihiro Watanuki_

—_NISI__**O**__ISIN_

_

* * *

_

**It manifests in the blood. Guilt. A feeling of negligence. Of promises not kept. Of failure that reminds one of their mortality, in the most devastating and brutal way. Prone to error. Human.**

**

* * *

**

"_Did you know that if materia shatters, as long as it's not a Summon and you have all the pieces, it'll still work? You just have to keep it together! Like in a pendant or somethin'."_

"_...I knew that."_

"_WHA—? And you never told me?"_

"_Didn't cross my mind."_

"_Y'know, I'm going to gather all the pieces of materia in the world and build a ginormous amusement park out of them—with a castle! And people from all over the world will come to worship me!"_

"_Have fun with that. Arms up."_

"_Pyuh, you're not listening to me Nii-chan! I'm serious!"_

"_Stop squirming! It's hard enough dressing you as it is."_

"_Bleh—OW!"_

"_Don't stick your tongue out. It's rude."_

"_Wah, you didn't haveta hit me. You're so mean, Vinnie-chan—you make fun of me, beat me up, act...uhhhh, su-peer—uh, better than me. I'm telling you, one of these days you're gonna regret it."_

"_Oh stop being such a baby. I'm not that bad."_

"_I _am_ a baby—you won't let me go anywhere by myself."_

"_That's because you're special."_

"_Not special needs!"_

"_No, not special needs. But dear to me, so that makes you...special..."_

"_Awe, a blush! A blush!"_

_

* * *

_

Asinine humanity is a poison to itself, damned if they took the world with them. Killing others for gain and benefit, tearing their sanity to shreds for frivolities and selfish desire. Murder might as well be classified as a business venture. There was so much sickly, polluted blood, the mellifluous sound of destruction, raining in the derelict world it was a wonder it didn't clog the gutters. Blood of the innocuous, blood of the adulterous, cleared away and forgotten as though it never existed. Vincent would plead the fifth but his heart, the little left of it, would disclose. He was among the many emptying red into the drain.

Dreams are unattainable. Ignorance is pretended. The world was a body running in circles with the eyes closed, so that the head might as well be severed. Everything felt topsy-turvy, volatile, like the ground was on stilts, a train with shot breaks on a windy track. An accelerated reality of an inverse maxim, one step forward two steps back.

Nibelheim symbolized more than a simple booming metropolis—it was humanities' feat; goldmine; master hive. If Gaia were the universe, Nibelheim would be the centre. An enormous city, as tightly packed as a sardine case, taking hours to cross and easy to get lost in. Easy to disappear.

How ironic the 'monument' was so corrupted and corroded that citizens didn't see the faults in its foundations, brazenly flouting the hands reaching between the bars of psychosis. Those on the outside reaching in, a reverse of the sane seeking the mad, instead of the mad fleeing the sane.

Truth shined plainly, blatantly, in the eyes of the forsaken. Bereft and miserable, they saw how fragile everything was. Saw how the indolent sealed themselves in their gilded coffin as a child hid beneath the covers, hoping their fears were spectres and not to be realized. Humanity cannot escape what it sows, for the reaper collects his dues at his leisure, offering no leniency for an unpaid fair price.

Eventually the train runs out of track, and it's too late to jump.

He was among the few tied to the carriages.

Vincent's life story reeked of misery, deceit and loss. Every twist and jagged turn resulted in death, or was closely acquainted with the realm beyond life. With the passing of every soul, his very heart degraded, cells rupturing and destroyed in the face of newer, black structures that better suited his cold, isolated personality. A drop of ice dripped into his beating organ, slowly but surely freezing it with every encounter. Until a solid, beautiful but selfish and cruel mass of crystal was left to pump life into his veins, the blood soon poisoned by the pitiless substance.

Waking up drenched in desolation and the telltale scarlet of humanity merged into his routine. Exhaustion from the night last would prevent him from washing, slipping into dreamless or nightmare plagued sleep. It was to be expected—the fatigue. Constantly he worked late into the night, long hours dragging until the early time of morning, so he could watch the red dawn after a bloody sunset. A testament to his accomplishments.

No matter how much he scrubbed or how long, in spite of ending up a raw and paler version of a poppy flower, Vincent never succeeded in washing away the filth he felt sticking, _clinging _to his body. He yearned to rip the toned flesh countless envied from his skeleton, ring it out and scour it clean so that the screams and deaths and hate haunted him no longer. Finding the particular part of him that influenced such feelings of guilt and sorrow would be a blessing. Vincent would tear it away immediately.

If to be human hurt this much, he might as well be the monster fear named.

Unfortunately this luxury wasn't granted. It never got easier to pull the trigger, even if the act of raising and firing came from force of habit. Thus, he dealt with the ghosts in various ways.

Music. He played several instruments; bass and electric guitar, the violin, grand piano, organ, Wutainese flute. He would play songs or compose them, just used to occupy and fill up the time between the arc of the sun.

Art. Vincent had a penchant for watercolour spreads. So he painted many for himself, of people and their eyes. His important people.

Logging his experiences. A mentor had once suggested he keep a record of his emotions and reactions to each assignment to help retain his peace of mind. The entries could be expressed in any form, so Vincent scripted poetry. He took the man's advice to heart, and guarded these logs as his most precious items, revealing how truly decayed and feeble he could be.

Pills. Unhealthy and loathsome though they be, Vincent relied heavily on the small tablets to bear him an induced, blank sleep. Of course his reprieve only lasted three to four hours. It wasn't very effective.

Drinking. Alcohol was a terrible combination with his sleeping pills and antidepressants but since he still wasn't dead he figured he had nothing to lose. Vincent avoided company on days where he actually had energy to drink, straight vodka, as without fail, he was violent and debasing when successfully smashed.

Sex. On bad days or good days a warm body consistently filled the other side of the bed in the hotel room—never home, he couldn't trust them—and he would never take pills, rarely drinking.

Cutting/Abuse. After the really horrible ones, the deaths of the begging chaste, he would break a glass in his cabinet and carve a symbol of them into his skin. He remembered all the names.

He didn't aspire to excel in any of those areas, nor did he discipline them. They were simply activities that helped his body feel alive, even while being threatened by suffocation of the legacies of those passed over. A sole, increasingly thinning lifeline.

* * *

Sometimes she would just sit there.

Remaining motionless, unenthralled by her surroundings, fixated on a single object; occurrence. Such as the fluttering of the enormous azure butterflies in the beautiful hanging cages, or multicoloured canaries. The flurried circling patterns of the monochromatic water snakes beneath the glass floor, or the simple twirling of the worn dog tag between her fingers. Her body, though intently focussed, stayed relaxed and calm.

Surprisingly calm.

So calm that her still body would seem almost transparent; unreal. See through. Like she was somehow, insentience, blending in with the glowing scorch of the walls. The boundaries of her prison. The effect was unnerving, how one could pass their gaze over her in a near barren room and not notice her presence until she moved. Until she wanted them to become aware of her.

For them, it spelled danger.

On days when one would enter and she was engaged in rare movement, it would still be difficult to spot her small, fastidious actions, repetitive strokes upon a bleached pad. No concentration marred her brow as she slipped into a trance-like, inattentive state. Her hand bounced as she drew but the motions lacked life—lacked passion. No matter how graceful she seemed, a careful observer noticed the loose posture for what it was—not an action of release, but of robotic, rehearsed action.

Her drawing was void and dull, something done compulsively from memory.

On days _he _would come to see her, she would sketch a lot preceding the visit. In the same calculated, deadest way.

Never, curiously enough, did she recreate something within the room. Always, the pictures were of things outside, people and buildings, past memories kept alive only through the securing of them to paper.

In fun, _he _burned them, but she'd only make more. Quietly and diligently replacing each image.

Blending in with the walls...

Escaping to a fantasy of a two dimensional space...

Hiding in her memories. The way she learned to cope was to slip into her mind, like passing through gossamer curtains, and dwell upon faces and dreams.

Way back when, during the first two weeks, she cried herself to sleep, exhausting her mind reflecting her sorrows.

Now, she never slept. Her sad, sad eyes just gazed at a distant place, a distant time. At a world where her focus occupied a different reality, where her pictures were more than just lines on a page.

"_You'll come for me, right Oniichan? You won't let them keep me forever?"_

"_Of course not! Never. You just sit tight and be strong, alright? Don't let them see you cry. Nobodies' worth your tears, especially them, ya hear? I'll come for you._

"_I promise."_

"Promises...a-are meant t-to b-be broken,...r-r-right, Oniichan?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, we've cleared Vincent waking up, so now I'm gonna get into why he was out next chappie! Some new characters introduced this chapter—the last bit, could y'all tell? So next we get a glimpse of Vincent's home and some of his friends, and Cloud gets a job, and the Turks have a meeting.**

**So I've decided starting January I'll be updating bimonthly, and try to get ahead now to prepare. So yell all you want if I'm late, okay? The next chapter should be out January 22, 2011. A minimum of eight thousand words.**

**27 reviews are killing me with joy! Thanks you guys, sooo much!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Now does anyone know where I can download Soul Eater and Full Metal Alchemist episodes? I'm working on a little project and need some kick-ass anime action sequences. **


	11. Not Abandoned! Please Read!

**Okay guys, here it comes...**

**I'm not dropping this fic. Don't even bother to panic about that. Never in a million years will that happen. I hate it when people do that, but here's why it's taking so long after I promised bi-monthly updates. As soon as January came around, it was study for finals. And then I entered the dreaded subject of Physics. Long story short, I've been dying internally, especially since I lost my job just recently. Plus, I started reading again, which made Meyko check her own story. And ultimately decide that she must do it over. Yep, I've already got a lot of it written down and ready to go. Just gotta type it. I changed it because I really just intended the whole thing to be a high school fic with some gang drama, and then it evolved as I plotted it out. Like really evolved, to the point where I want to put more effort into the whole thing and add in some points to make everything flow. So, here's a point where people have a chance to contribute to this story... of the like three readers I have left. But I have some open ended stuff, and now a beta reader to hopefully stay (because sometimes real life sucks) wolfissac, and I'm gonna get down to business. So, some open ended stuff for you, tidbits that are actually important, so if you have input, give it now!:**

**First Person/Third Person Perspective?**

**Present/Past Tense?**

**Reno? Boyfriend (uke/seme)/ Girlfriend?**

**Vincent's Parents (excluding all aforementioned characters)**

**Should Cloud keep/lose his eyesight (technical spoiler)?**

**Noctis/Stella or Noctis/Lightning**

**Namine dies/lives?**

**Cloud rape/no?**

**Should Tifa play a role in Cloud's past?**

**Fenrir male/female?**

**First Tsuguri/BUSTER Sword?**

**Angeal/Genesis or Sephiroth/Genesis?**

**Vincent long/short haired as a child?**

**Okay, that's it. If you have any questions about stuff you were confused about earlier, lemme know! Oh, and if you don't give a damn about some of the questions that don't haveta do with Final Fantasy Seven, don't give a random answer. But for everything else, please do!**


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